


His true love

by ChocoNut



Series: The Journey or the Destination? [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Deviates in Season 4, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-08-20 04:30:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 50,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Jaime and Brienne have firmly decided to stay away from each other. But Tyrion has other plans for the pair. Will they be able to successfully avoid each other?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the sequel that I've been planning for quite some time. This will not be canon compliant, deviating right from S4 Episode 1 onwards, with a few of the canon elements intact.

“Cersei,” Jaime called out softly, watching her from the entrance. Overwhelmed at the sight of his sister, he didn’t know what else to say when she turned around. Her emerald eyes mirroring his emotions, she got to her feet, ready to fling herself into his arms when her smile faltered as soon as her eyes fell on his stump.

Jaime followed her gaze, slightly apprehensive of her opinion of his disability. “Long story,” he murmured. “Let’s leave that for another day.”

Before Cersei could respond, they were interrupted by a servant at the door.

“My lord,” the man bowed his head. “As you instructed, the lady who came with you has been shown to the guest chambers.”

“Good,” Jaime said. “I also want you to make sure she gets everything she needs. Why don’t you send for some fresh clothes to start with?”

“Very well, my lord,” he bowed again and left.

Jaime had vowed to keep away from Brienne, but he would leave no stone unturned to make sure she was comfortable during her brief stay at the Red Keep. She was a guest at King’s Landing, his guest, and a very special one.

“Who is this _lady_ he was referring to?” Cersei looked at him suspiciously.

“Brienne of Tarth,” Jaime failed to hide the smile on his lips when he mentioned her name. “She’s--”

“The daughter of Selwyn Tarth, I am aware of that,” Cersei’s tone had a hint of bitterness. “What I fail to understand is, why is she with you?”

“She was sent to accompany me on orders of Catelyn Stark. She was my escort,” Jaime decided to be truthful.

“Your jailor, you mean,” Cersei corrected him contemptuously. “The mighty Jaime Lannister, sent home as the prisoner of a woman. Father would be proud of you.”

Jaime hung his head, ashamed. Though he had expected a warmer welcome, she wasn’t entirely wrong. The last year had been nothing more than an additional blot on his already tainted reputation. He had been captured and taken prisoner by a boy nearly half his age, defeated in a fight by a woman, tortured and maimed, and now reduced to nothing but his family name. All he had now, was his past glory. He was useless, not even worthy of the Kingslayer tag.

“Has it crossed your mind even once that she’s enemy?” Cersei asked coldly. “Since when have you been socializing with the Starks? Gone soft on them since your capture?”

“She is not a Stark,” Jaime replied defiantly.

“She’s their ally,” Cersei went on. “That undoubtedly makes her our enemy, unless you have decided to switch sides, brother.”

Jaime had anticipated this outburst, which was why he wanted Brienne out of here as soon as possible. What he had not envisaged, was the complication of Sansa being married to Tyrion. How was he to sort that out?

“Was it her doing?” Cersei’s eyes once again fell on his stump, the look of disgust in them unmistakable.

“What do you mean?” Jaime felt his pulse rising.

“Was it this Tarth woman who cut your hand off?” she spat. “I’ve seen her once in the past, so mannish that her looks can put even men to shame. If she was the one who did it, I will have her--”

“You will not lay a finger on her,” Jaime snapped in anger. “And don’t you criticize her in my presence. She has done much more for me than anyone ever has. If I’m alive and standing in front of you, it is only because of her.”

“What is the point of being alive if you can’t be a knight anymore?” Cersei looked at him in disdain.

Jaime stared at her, unable to digest her words.

“Forgive me,” her expression softened at once. “I didn’t mean that literally. It’s just that, I can’t stand the idea of this Brienne living under the same roof as us.”

“She will soon be gone,” he assured her, desperately hoping that she would leave Brienne alone.

Once he was sure that Cersei was pacified, Jaime made his way to his chambers, craving a bath. Having bathed and shaved, he had his hair cut into a neat crop and changed into some much-needed fresh clothes. When he was convinced that he was presentable, he went to meet his father. And just as he had feared, Tywin Lannister’s reaction was no better than Cersei’s.

“A one handed man with no family needs all the help he can get,” Tywin had taunted him while handing him one half of Ned Stark’s reforged blade. No matter what, Jaime decided to stick to his stand of continuing with the Kingsguard. Marriage, family, Casterly Rock-none of these excited him as much as the pounding of his blood when his sword met another, or the surge of passion that took him apart during his intimate moments with Cersei.

+++++

“I’m useless without my sword hand,” he confessed to Tyrion at lunch the next day. Jaime was having a bad time since his arrival, with each and every member of his family condemning his return without his hand. After Cersei and his father, Joffrey was the next to criticize him, pointing out his absence during the Battle of the Blackwater, while making fun of his age and ridiculing the lack of his right hand.

“You’re the Kingslayer,” Tyrion made every attempt to motivate him. After the meeting with the rest of his family that turned out disastrous, Jaime’s heart warmed at Tyrion’s attitude towards him. Atleast, someone in the family was genuinely happy to have him back!

“I can’t even slay a pigeon,” Jaime lamented, cursing his fate. They continued chatting, with Tyrion trying to boost his confidence, mentioning that being the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, all he had to do, was command. He also made a suggestion that Jaime could train with his other hand to try and regain some of his lost glory, assuring him that he would make arrangements for a suitable tutor.

“You haven’t spoken about your new _friend_ yet,” Tyrion asked him carefully, changing the subject. “The Maid of Tarth, tell me about her.”

Jaime suppressed a groan. He saw it coming-more criticism about Brienne. Was it so difficult for people to see beyond her physical appearance?

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jaime straightened himself, ready to defend her. Was every member of his family going to do this? “She’s Lord Selwyn Tarth’s daughter--”

“I didn’t ask about her family,” Tyrion waved his hand dismissively. “What I want to know, is how you ended up with her.”

“She was entrusted with the responsibility of getting me back home safely,” Jaime said, summarizing all that had happened in the last few months. “She was pledged to Catelyn Stark.”

“So, that makes her our enemy,” Tyrion concluded.

“NO!” Jaime cried out, his voice unintentionally loud.

“Is she your friend, then?” Tyrion looked at him sharply from above his glass.

“Not exactly,” Jaime squirmed under his brother’s gaze. Over the last few days of their travel, Brienne had become an important part of his life. _Friend_ would be an understatement, for the bond that he had forged with her ran much deeper than friendship. It was something he couldn’t quite put a name to, something that he didn’t want to explain or justify to his family. They would never look at her the way he did.

“I see,” Tyrion nodded. “I would like to meet this lady who is not-exactly-your-friend. Let me arrange for a special dinner tonight, in the honour of your return.”

“There’s no need for that,” Jaime felt his cheeks flush. The last thing he wanted, was for Brienne to be looked down upon and insulted by his family.

“Why not? Anyone of significance to my brother automatically becomes worthy of my acquaintance,” Tyrion declared.

“This is precisely why I don’t want a public gathering,” Jaime said angrily. “You and the other Lannisters examining her, trying to gauge if she is worthy of your acquaintance or not--”

“I’m sorry, Jaime,” Tyrion immediately apologised. “That’s not how I meant it. All I'm trying to say, is that your friend is my friend too. I really want to meet her. Believe me, I say this, not with the intention to mock her, but with the wish to really get to know her.”

“Fine,” Jaime gave up, succumbing to his brother’s impeccable persuasion skills. “Do as you please.” He wiped his hands and got up to leave.

“It is quite puzzling,” Tyrion began without context, as Jaime was about to step out.

He stopped, waiting for his brother to continue.

“You are not the type to befriend people easily, brother,” Tyrion looked at him squarely. “Then how come this woman, who is not a conventional lady by any standards--”

“Are you calling her ugly?” Jaime took an intimidating step towards his brother, anger rising in his chest. “If you are, then let me tell you that--”

“You misunderstand,” Tyrion raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “As I have already made myself clear, I have no wish to insult your lady. I am just genuinely surprised that you don’t perceive her as the enemy that circumstances make her to be.”

“She is not our enemy,” Jaime retorted. “If she wanted to kill me, she could have done so easily. I was weak and starved and maimed, and there was enough opportunity for her to take advantage of that.”

“Tell me, how did she happen to become more than just your captor?” Tyrion pressed further “How did she manage to gain your trust?”

“That’s a long story,” Jaime tried to put him off. _She has managed to gain more than just my trust!_

“I have time,” Tyrion refused to budge.

“You don’t, if you really are keen on that dinner tonight.”

“Cersei wouldn’t be happy, you know,” Tyrion went on relentlessly. “This new affiliation of yours with Lady Brienne will not go down well with her.”

“I know,” Jaime agreed. “Though there is nothing between Brienne and me except respect for each other, I doubt Cersei would see it that way.”

“What do you plan to do, then?” Tyrion inquired, genuinely concerned. “Cersei would stop at nothing to make sure Lady Brienne’s life is made miserable.”

“I’m going to get her out of King’s Landing as soon as possible,” Jaime confessed, unable to hide the tinge of sadness in his voice. He had to think of a way to get Sansa to leave with her. Now that she was Tyrion’s wife, things had become all the more difficult for him. He had to talk to Tyrion about it, but that was a matter of discussion for another day.

“Hmm,” Tyrion seemed to be lost in thought “I agree, she has to go, for neither Cersei, nor father would see her the way you do. But how do _you_ feel about it?”

“About what?”

“How do you feel about letting her go?” Tyrion asked again.

“How I feel about it is unimportant,” Jaime said in a flat tone. “In her own interest and mine, I have to keep her away from here, away from me. I am going to stop meeting her henceforth.”

“And you think, that would make you happy?” Tyrion prodded him.

Jaime dropped his gaze. “I have to leave,” he muttered, unable to see eye to eye with his brother. “It’s quite late.”

+++++

Jaime nervously glanced across the table at Brienne who was seated next to Tyrion, apprehensive of how his brother would treat her. Having followed his instructions, his men had ensured that the wench was provided with clothes appropriate for a lady in the royal household. As soon as he was out of Cersei’s chambers, he had once again sought out the man and specifically ordered him to have Brienne’s clothes made in blue fabric. And now that she had come dressed in one of the gowns that were custom-sewed for her, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

 _Blue is a colour that looks good on her. It goes well with her eyes!_ Wary of Cersei, he looked away immediately for fear of making his attention towards Brienne too obvious.  

Tyrion had kept his promise and made sure Brienne was seated next to him at the table, protecting her from the wrath of the rest of the family. Unable to concentrate on his food, Jaime had his ears fixed on the pair, eager to overhear their conversation.

“I have heard stories about your valour, Lady Brienne,” he heard Tyrion say.

“I don’t think, there are many stories worth hearing about me, Lord Tyrion,” Brienne replied. Jaime toyed with his food, feeling a pang at her lack of self-esteem which was so clearly obvious in her tone.

“I know, there are. My brother certainly holds you in high regard,” Tyrion went on. “He thinks you are far superior to most of the knights he has had the privilege to know.”

Hearing this, Jaime jerked his head in surprise, looking straight at them. He had told Tyrion no such thing, though that was exactly how he felt about the wench. _What in the name of the Seven was his brother playing at?_

“Your brother has been exaggerating,” Brienne refuted his claim immediately, her cheeks turning a faint shade of pink.

“Not at all!” the praise in Tyrion’s voice was evident. “I have come to hear that you defeated my brother in a duel, my lady. Very few men have accomplished that feat, and I commend you for that. You really must be excellent at swordplay.”

“I don’t deserve so much praise, my lord,” Brienne blushed deeper, stealing a glance at Jaime. “Ser Jaime was weak, and in chains. Had he been his usual self, unchained and in full physical strength, I don’t think, I could have managed to stand a chance against him.”

“Oh, you are being extremely modest, my lady,” Tyrion admonished her gently, his eyes darting towards Jaime as he spoke to her. “My brother has a very high opinion of your skills. Not just your skills, if I’m not mistaken, Jaime also admires you for many other reasons such as--”

“Ahem,” Jaime coughed. “Why don’t you let Lady Brienne finish her meal, brother? She is going be here for a while, so there will be ample time for meaningful conversations later.” He desperately wanted to put an end to this chat which was now beginning to venture into  dangerous territories. He didn’t want Cersei to hear about all that had transpired between them.

“Certainly,” Tyrion agreed courteously, keeping his eyes on Jaime all the time, leaving him nervous and wondering about what was going on inside his head. What the hell was his brother up to?

“Lady Brienne, meet my wife Sansa,” Tyrion introduced Brienne to her once they had finished eating. Jaime had to admit, he had never seen anyone as unhappy as Sansa Stark. From what he had heard, the poor girl had been through so much, her unpleasant marriage to his brother being the last straw.

“Glad to meet you, Lady Brienne,” Sansa greeted her with a forced smile.

“Why don’t you ladies chat while I discuss family matters with my brother,” Tyrion left them alone, pulling Jaime aside.

“What family matters did you want to discuss?” Jaime asked, his eyes still stuck on Brienne and Sansa.

“I like her,” Tyrion declared, smiling.

“What?” Jaime blurted out, tearing his eyes off the women.

“Lady Brienne,” Tyrion clarified. “I like her.”

“So?” Jaime was unsure about where this was going.

“You like her, and I like her too,” Tyrion was now grinning from ear to ear. “I just thought, I should let you know that I approve.”

“I don’t _like_ her,” Jaime felt his face grow hot. “I mean, I don’t dislike her, but that doesn’t mean I--”

“I understand fully well what you mean,” Tyrion gave him one of his annoying all-knowing expressions.

“It’s not what you think it is,” Jaime said quickly. “I made my stand clear. I’m not going to see her again, unless absolutely necessary. I thought, I told you that.”

“Yes, you did,” Tyrion was still smiling.

 

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you see what I see?” Tyrion asked Bronn, pointing to his brother who was standing alone in a corner with a glass in his hand, gazing at Brienne longingly.

“Aye,” Bronn nodded, looking in Jaime's direction. “Your brother wants to fook her.”

Tyrion choked on his wine. “Well, that’s a crude way to put it, my friend, but you may not be entirely wrong. Though, I don’t think they have quite reached that stage yet,” he said. “But the way they eye each other, that day doesn’t seem to be far off.”

Bronn shrugged. “I thought it was obvious.”

“My brother is an idiot,” Tyrion sighed. “He likes her, and he’s not far from falling for her. For all I know, he might already be in love with her, but he won’t say a word.”

“Doesn’t he love your sister?” Bronn looked confused.

“Unfortunately he does,” Tyrion said ruefully. “And she takes undue advantage of him. But Brienne of Tarth has given me hope that it might be possible to free my brother from his distorted perception of love.”

“What do you mean?” Bronn raised his eyebrows.

“I mean, we have to make Jaime realize where his true love lies,” Tyrion rubbed his palms gleefully, a plan materializing in his head.

“ _We?_ ”

“You and I, Bronn,” Tyrion said, excited at the prospect that his brother could love someone other than Cersei. “I like Lady Brienne. Honourable and righteous, she would make Jaime a wonderful wife. And if I am not entirely wrong, she has already lost her heart to him.”

When Bronn seemed unconvinced, Tyrion explained further.

“Did you notice the way she blushes when she looks at Jaime?” Tyrion asked, recollecting that the pair couldn’t stop stealing glances at each other across the table. “And gods, my brother too… I’ve never seen Jaime blush before.”

“Physical attraction is one thing,” Bronn still sounded doubtful. “Wanting to fook a woman may not be the same as being in love with her.”

“Jaime is an inch away from falling for her,” Tyrion said confidently. “And I’m sure he will. So will she. If there’s one thing I can judge correctly, it is people. Trust me on that, Bronn. But the only problem is that my brother has decided never to meet her again. He wants to keep away from her. That’s something that we may want to change.”

Bronn stared at him, waiting for him to continue.

“To start with, we cannot allow Jaime to stay away from his lady if they have to fall in love properly,” Tyrion said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “So despite their resolution to refrain from meeting, we have to make sure they keep running into each other...”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion springs into action ;)

“How was your first day at training?” Tyrion inquired, as soon as he saw Jaime enter the dining hall for breakfast. He has designated Bronn to tutor his brother, and they had just finished their first session that morning.

“Terrible,” Jaime made a face. “My left hand just doesn’t cooperate, no matter how hard I try.”

“Patience is a virtue, brother,” Tyrion said wisely. “Give it time and some effort. Things will fall into place.” _So will your love life, if you cooperate._

Jaime nodded. Tyrion had been waiting for an opportunity to broach the subject, and now was the right moment.

“Jaime, Isn’t Bronn one of the finest swordsmen you’ve ever fought?” he asked, searching his brother’s face for a reaction.

There it was. The faint ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and the pale hue of pink on his cheeks. Tyrion had his answer.

“Well?” Tyrion nudged him to go on, despite knowing what Jaime was going to say.

“No doubt, Bronn is brilliant--”

“But?”

A dreamy look came over Jaime’s features as he broke into a shy smile. “That fight Brienne defeated me in, it was one of the most difficult I’ve ever been in.”

“She claims otherwise,” Tyrion was curious about this epic fight that made these two idiots consistently blush. Yesterday, it was her, and now, him. “She says, she happened to take advantage of your weakness.”

“She underestimates herself.” There was a hint of pride in Jaime’s voice, which coming from his brother, was nothing less than shocking. No other warrior except Arthur Dayne, and probably Barristan Selmy had ever managed to command Jaime’s respect.

“Bronn wanted to invite her to one of your sessions,” Tyrion went on, hoping Jaime would fall for it.

“I know, I asked him not to,” Jaime said. “It is better she stays away from me.”

 _Damn you, Bronn!_ Tyrion made a mental note to fix this. For now, he decided to put the first part of his plan into action. “I had been to welcome Oberyn Martell yesterday,” he said slowly.

“Good for you,” Jaime replied, mildly curious. He went back to wolfing down his food, clearly least bothered about whatever Tyrion was telling him.

“Lady Brienne happened to be around when he visited the gardens.” At the mention of Brienne’s name, Jaime looked up from his plate. Tyrion had his brother’s complete attention.

“What was Brienne doing with Oberyn Martell?” he frowned, visibly displeased at the prospect.

“Do you think Oberyn is handsome?” Tyrion asked, wanting to pull him deeper into the trap.

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Brienne thinks so too,” Tyrion fought hard to keep a straight face. “If I’m not mistaken, I even caught a little blush on her cheeks when he kissed her hand.”

“What the fu…” Jaime got up from his chair in anger, but on second thoughts, he sat down, much to Tyrion’s disappointment.

“She seems to like him,” he had to keep this going if he had to achieve the effect he desired.

Jaime’s eyes burned bright with a fire that Tyrion had never seen before. “First Renly, and now this man,” he said hoarsely. “Why does she always have to fall for useless pretty boys?”

 _Jealousy is definitely one step closer to the acceptance of one’s true feelings._ Tyrion was pleased that his ruse was working so far.

“Oberyn Martell is no pretty boy,” Tyrion corrected him. “He’s a _man_.”

“So am I!” Jaime roared.

 _Right on target_ , thought Tyrion gleefully.

“No doubt, you are, but I’m not the one you need to convince,” he flashed Jaime a sly grin.

He quietly watched, as Jaime sat there brooding over his plate, staring at his bread moodily instead of eating it.

“I don’t know why she does this,” Jaime mumbled, not bothering to set the context. “She has to go and fall in love with worthless men who would never love her back. She doesn't understand that she would only end up breaking her heart in this entire bargain.”

“She’s your friend, you say,” Tyrion peered at him curiously. When Jaime neither agreed to, nor refuted his claim, he went on, taking his silence as an affirmation. “Why don’t you help her out? Prevent her from falling for the wrong man again,” he suggested, hoping Jaime would take the bait.

“What are you trying to say?”

“I mean, as her _friend_ , is it not your responsibility to protect her from someone like Oberyn who is a--”

“Serial womanizer, I know, and to imagine Brienne falling prey to his lustful ways...” Jaime fumed. “But I can’t do anything. I’ve hardly spoken to Brienne since our return, and I can’t intervene in her life.”

“I know about your keep-away-from-her resolution, but you are honour bound to keep her away from such men, aren’t you?” Tyrion desperately tried to drive him into action.

When Jaime was still thinking about it, Tyrion decided to try a different tack.

“In a way you’re right, Jaime,” he said thoughtfully. “She’s an independent woman. Who she loves or marries is none of your business. It is best for you to let her be and carry on with your life. After all, Cersei wouldn’t be happy if you met Brienne again, would she?”

“Hmm,” Jaime reluctantly agreed. _Good. He’s atleast thinking about it._

“I have to make a move,” Tyrion got up as soon as he had finished his meal. “Sansa is at the Godswood, and I’m going there to meet her.”

Jaime nodded, looking distracted.

“Lady Brienne would be there as well. She seems to be bonding well with my wife,” Tyrion watched Jaime carefully as he went on. “Sansa has requested her company, and if I’m not mistaken, Oberyn had expressed an interest to see the Godswood as well. So it is quite possible that your lady might have agreed to accompany him. He too might be present there the same time as Brienne--”

“I’m coming with you,” Jaime put down his unfinished plate hastily.

Tyrion shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, brother. Cersei wouldn’t be happy--”

“What Cersei doesn’t know will not bother her,” Jaime left in a huff, leaving Tyrion smiling and satisfied.

_Mission accomplished._

+++++

Brienne was already sitting there with Sansa when Tyrion reached the Godswood with Jaime. The women rose as soon as they spotted the brothers.

“My Lady,” Tyrion greeted Brienne, while Jaime and Sansa exchanged courtesies.

“Where is he?” Jaime scanned the place with a furious glint in his eyes.

“Who?” Brienne looked at him, puzzled.

“Oberyn Martell,” Jaime spat. Tyrion was glad to note the cold contempt in his tone.

_Jealousy...The oldest tool in history to aid romance. Always works, no matter how complicated or tangled the circumstances are._

“Why would Prince Oberyn be here?” Brienne wondered aloud, surprised that such a question was directed at her.

Tyrion had to make an effort to suppress his smile. “I suppose, I’m responsible for this confusion,” he said apologetically. “When he requested you to show him around the keep, I surmised he would be here with you this morning.”

“No, I’m just here to accompany Lady Sansa,” Brienne said, carefully avoiding Jaime.

“Good,” Tyrion concluded. “No more confusion, then. All my fault.”

Brienne was still staring at them, apparantly clueless about what was going on.

“Sansa,” Tyrion turned to his wife. “If you have finished with your prayers, we are due to meet Lady Margaery in a while. Shall we make a move?” It was time for them to make themselves scarce and leave the lovers to each other.

“We’ve only just arrived,” Jaime looked at his brother in disbelief.

“Social obligation, my dear brother. Unfortunately, I can’t avoid it,” Tyrion pretended to be disappointed. “But you two could still carry on, spend some time. You could show Lady Brienne the place, Jaime.”

“But--” Jaime began to object, but Tyrion paid him no heed.

“Why don’t you join Sansa and me for dinner tonight, Jaime?”

“Sure,” Jaime agreed immediately.

“I would appreciate it a lot if you too could make it, my lady,” Sansa asked, inviting Brienne.

“I don’t know...” Brienne bit her lip, hesitating.

“I would be glad too if you come, Lady Brienne,” Tyrion implored, hoping she would agree.

“It would be an honour, my lord,” Brienne finally agreed, a shy smile lighting up her broad face.

“We should be going then,” Tyrion left with Sansa, hoping that the forced meeting between the two would bear some fruit.

 

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

 

“Tell me, wench,” Jaime eventually broke the long silence left behind by Tyrion and Sansa’s exit. “Do you think Oberyn Martell is handsome?”

“Why do you ask?” Brienne was taken aback by his question. She had met Oberyn only once, and yes, he was quite handsome.

“I came to know of your interest in him,” he said accusingly.

“What the hell gave you that idea?” Brienne was aghast at the very thought of it.

“I just--” Jaime faltered. “I felt so.”

Brienne was still recovering from the shock of his preposterous suggestion, when Jaime pushed further.

“Do you think he’s handsome?” his eyes bore into hers, making her slightly uncomfortable. Why was he still harping on this?

“Ofcourse,” she said truthfully. “By any standards, he is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met.”

“Have you promised him a city tour?” Once again his question had the accusatory note.

“He did make a request, but I made no such promises.”

“Good,” Jaime sounded relieved. “That man is not to be trusted. He has a mistress, and nearly a dozen bastard daughters, give or take a few. You know that, I take it?”

“I do,” Brienne replied, wondering what he was driving at.

“He takes special interest in visiting brothels and,” Jaime’s face was twisted in disgust “Male or female, it doesn’t matter to him. Anything with a pulse is good enough for him to take to bed.”

“His bedtime preferences are none of my concern, Ser Jaime,” Brienne was confused now. “Why have we been discussing Prince Oberyn for the last few minutes? I have already told you--”

“I have heard that he is interested in you and I want you to stay away from him,” Jaime spoke rapidly. “For your own good. I don’t want you pining after him next, after what happened with Renly.”

“While I cannot control the next to impossible chance that he might be interested in me, I have no such inclination towards him,” Brienne said curtly. “I don’t know what has got that into your head.”

“Oh,” Jaime said, slightly abashed. “When you admitted that he is handsome, I thought maybe you--”

“Well, I think you’re handsome too, but that doesn’t mean I am interested--” she stopped mid sentence, realizing what she was speaking.

_Damn! Am I going to embarrass myself to death?_

Since their dinner last night, Brienne had to put in extra effort to keep her heart in check. Clean shaven and hair cut short, Jaime looked even more attractive than she had imagined him to be in her frequently conjured up visions of what he might actually look like.

“You think, I’m handsome?” he looked at her, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips.

“Yes, I mean no...I mean…” she blushed, but managed to gather her wits the next second. “We were discussing Oberyn. Just because he is handsome doesn’t mean I’m going to swoon into his arms at first sight, or throw myself into his bed. You know me better than that, Ser Jaime.” She was upset that he thought her so shallow, that she would give her heart away to any random attractive man she set her eyes on. _How can he even think like that, when my heart is already his!_

“But you think he’s handsome?” he still looked suspicious.

“Yes, so?” Brienne asked defiantly. She would not give in so easily to his pointless interrogation.

“I’m just worried about you, Brienne,” concern now replaced the suspicion in his eyes. “I don’t want you to suffer again.”

“I am not suffering,” Brienne decided that it was time to change the subject. It was time for some meaningful talk. “What have you decided about Sansa? You made a promise.”

“What do you want me to do? Kidnap my sister-in-law? And take her where?” Jaime asked her in exasperation.

They argued for a while with Brienne insisting that he keep his vow no matter how complicated the circumstances were. _How can he be so casual about something as important as this?_

“Are you sure we’re not related?” he asked mockingly, irritated with her continuous reference to his vow. He obviously didn’t mean it in a positive sense, with an added mention of his unsavoury reunion with his family confirming his displeasure.

Brienne couldn’t help wondering how he could disregard his vow so easily.

“Maybe you’re a Lannister too, you’ve got the hair for it, if not the looks,” he taunted her in his usual caustic tone and swaggered away, leaving her staring after him.

+++++

“Why don’t you tell us about your first meeting?” Tyrion asked them during the course of their meal.

Brienne’s memories went back to that fateful night. _Is that a woman?_ The words, and the sarcasm in his tone were still fresh in her mind.

“I was in chains and tied to a post when she first came to meet me. She was assigned to guard me through our escape from Riverrun,” Jaime smiled, as he recollected their first meeting.

“And I was told, I look much uglier in daylight,” Brienne said dryly. “That was the first _compliment_ your brother gave me, my lord.”

“Did he, now?” Tyrion whistled. “You definitely know how to woo a lady, Jaime.” He turned to Brienne. “Forgive my brother, Lady Brienne, he often speaks the exact opposite of what he really means. It’s a defect he was born with.”

“I was not trying to woo her--” Jaime cut in.

“If you say so,” Tyrion shrugged. “Let’s just assume that you were trying to insult her, but you didn’t really mean it, did you?”

“Oh, I’m sure that was exactly what he meant,” Brienne said bitterly, unable to forget the look of disgust on Jaime’s face when he had first seen her.

“Are you still upset about that, Brienne?” Jaime’s eyes widened in surprise. “You know, I don’t think of you like that anymore.”

“What exactly do you think of her now?” Tyrion peered at his brother curiously.

“I respect her, and I think she is an extremely accomplished warrior,” Jaime said evenly.

 _Respect. That’s all he feels for me!_ Something inside Brienne snapped at this declaration, though she had not expected anything more than that from Jaime.

“Is that all?” Tyrion was in no mood to let go.

“Yes,” Jaime said emphatically, making Brienne want to get up and leave.

“You hated him too, didn’t you?” Now, it was Sansa who had tossed the question at Brienne.

_Unfortunately, I have long forgotten how to hate him!_

“I did, my lady,” Brienne said ruefully. “With all my heart.”

“She used to call me _kingslayer,”_ Jaime interrupted.

“And when did this mutual hatred turn into--” Tyrion seemed to be thinking of the right word “--whatever you now feel for each other?”

“Respect,” Jaime supplied.

“Yes, _respect_ , I forgot,” Tyrion said. “So, when did you start _respecting_ each other?”

“When the _kingslayer_ became _Ser Jaime_ ,” Jaime’s eyes shone as he said this. He was looking at Brienne now.

“When he saved me from being raped, and when he came back for me at Harrenhal,” Brienne’s voice choked as she went back to the day he jumped into the bearpit for her. “He risked his life to save me from a bear, Lord Tyrion.”

“That was nothing,” Jaime tried to sound casual. “Any knight would have done the same.”

“Ah, yes,” Tyrion said softly. “Any knight would have done the same. But would _you_ have done it for _any_ lady, Jaime?”

Tyrion’s seemingly simple question left them both speechless.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Tyrion apologised, not waiting for an answer. “Do go on with your story.”

“What happened after that?” Sansa asked, intrigued.

“Ser Jaime talked his way out of Harrenhal, and we were escorted back to King’s Landing, thanks to his quick thinking,” Brienne summarized.

“You saved my life, Brienne,” Jaime whispered. “Once by motivating me to carry on living after the Harrenhal disaster, and the second time, by literally putting yourself before me, almost dying for me.”

“That was nothing,” Brienne said, flustered.

“Any lady would have done the same, right?” Tyrion leaned closer to her, studying her face. “I understand the sentiments behind your actions. Do continue.”

“That’s so sweet,” Sansa said, smiling. “The way you both stand up to each other, watching each other’s back--”

“It is _respect_ , Sansa,” Tyrion said with a straight face, looking alternately at Brienne and his brother. “When two people respect each other, they go to great lengths to protect and care for each other.”

Brienne gulped, her face growing warm. _What was the point of this dinner? And what was Lord Tyrion trying to play at?_

“Enough of our stories. We can save the rest for another day,” Jaime got up as soon as they had finished their meal. “It is quite late, and we should be leaving for our chambers.”

“Do you read, my lady?” Tyrion asked Brienne, completely ignoring Jaime.

“I love to read,” Brienne gave him a broad smile. “Unfortunately, I don’t have much access to books these days--”

“We have a huge library in the keep which no one uses, except me, and most of the books end up gathering dust,” Tyrion said. “I would be happy if you would want to help yourself to anything from there.”

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion. I’d love to, sometime.” Brienne replied, pleased with his offer.

“No better time than now,” Tyrion looked at Jaime. “Why don’t you show her the library, brother?”

Jaime groaned, giving his brother a why-me kind of an expression.

“Very well, Jaime, if you don’t want to,” Tyrion shrugged, and turned to Brienne. “My lady, Prince Oberyn wanted to see the library too, maybe the two of you could visit together tomorrow--”

“We can go right now, I don’t think Oberyn Martell is the type of man who reads,” Jaime got up quickly. “Come on, Brienne.”

They made their way through the passages in silence and when they reached the library, Jaime settled himself down on a chair. “Help yourself to whatever you want, wench.”

“I’m looking for _History of the Seven Kingdoms_ ,” Brienne went about browsing the various shelves. “I have always wanted to read it, ever since I was a girl.”

“It should be somewhere there,” Jaime vaguely pointed to the rack to his left. “Check in those shelves.”

“Oh no,” Brienne groaned. The book was there, all right, but sitting on the topmost shelf, inaccessible. Spotting a stool nearby, she dragged it to the shelf, ready to stand on it to reach the book.

“What are you trying to do, Brienne?” Jaime came hurrying over to her. “That stool is--”

But it was too late. She was already standing on it, and had even managed to grab the book, when one of the legs of the stool gave way, and she slipped and fell.

Resigned to the fact that she would crash to the hard ground and sprain a leg or two, Brienne shut her eyes, but was surprised to end up in Jaime’s arms. He had caught her, preventing her from landing on the floor. She drew in a sharp breath, trying not to steal a glance at his bare chest under the thin shirt which was conveniently open at the top. Having seen him in rags all these months, this was a bit too much for her to take in. Feeling slightly wobbly, she tried to balance the heavy book in her hand, in the process winding her arms tighter around his neck, involuntarily drawing closer to him. It took her all the mental strength she could gather to refrain from stroking his hair, while her breast pressed against the firm, well-defined muscles of his chest...

“Did you really have to undertake that stunt?” he whispered hoarsely, his face inches away from hers. “I was about to tell you that the stool was broken.”

“I’m sorry, Ser Jaime,” she felt herself blushing. “I must be heavy.”

“Don’t worry, wench,” he breathed, moving his face closer to hers, his green eyes not leaving hers for even a second. “I’m strong enough.”

Not knowing how to respond to his remark, Brienne stayed silent, unable to look him in the eye, while finding it impossible to look away from him either. This closeness, his proximity, all of it reminded her of their little incidents on their way back from Harrenhal. She had sworn to keep away from him, and she had made every effort to do so. Why was this happening to her again?

“Am I interrupting something?” an amused voice called out from behind them.

Jaime turned around to face Tyrion. “She slipped--”

“I think you can put her down now, Jaime,” Tyrion smirked. “Unless you were not exactly helping her, and the two of you have been up to something else in the deserted library--”

Jaime released her immediately, his face bright red. “As I said, she fell, and I just happened to catch her.”

“I can see that,” Tyrion said. “But why in the name of the seven are you both blushing so profusely?”

Brienne looked away from the brothers, blushing deeper, if that was even possible.

“I will leave you to whatever it was that you were doing,” Tyrion turned away.

“We were just picking up a book!” Jaime said defensively.

“Ofcourse you were just picking up a book. What else would you be doing in a library?” Tyrion asked innocently. “Goodnight, my lady. Jaime, please escort the lady back to her chambers on my behalf.”

He walked away, whistling a tune, leaving them to an awkward silence and a once-again empty library.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Jealous Jaime is cliche, and I am guilty of using that idea many times, but I just can't help it...


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More awkwardness, and some self-introspection for Jaime

“I apologize on Tyrion’s behalf.” They were on their way to Brienne’s chambers, and unable to contain himself any longer, Jaime decided to ease the tension between them that was threatening to get heavier by the minute. What happened in the library was an innocent incident and Tyrion had made it seem as if--

“Lord Tyrion did nothing to offend me,” Brienne looked at her feet as she spoke, her face still flaming red. Not that it was of any significance, but Jaime’s heart soared whenever he was the reason for the wench blushing like a maid. “I should thank you, Ser Jaime,” she looked up, giving him a shy smile. “If it were not for you, I would have ended up with atleast one broken bone.”

“It was my pleasure,” Jaime returned her smile. “I mean, it was not exactly pleasurable...but...I’m glad to have been of assistance.” _Gods, what am I saying?_

“Good night, Ser Jaime,” she giggled. _That’s odd, I’ve never seen her giggle before!_ Only then did he notice that they were already at her door. Surely, the walk should have been much longer than this?

“I’ll see you later, wench,” he said, slightly disappointed that he had to take leave of her so soon. “Why don’t you join us for the training tomorrow?” he asked, remembering Tyrion’s idea to invite her. Initially against it, he had been thinking about it all day, and concluded that it would do no harm if she joined them for one session.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” her face fell. “Your sister--”

“I’ll bother about what my sister thinks about it,” he dismissed her concern before she could even voice it. “Do you want to come or not?”

“Ofcourse I do,” her face lit up with excitement. “I’m always in for a good fight.”

“That settles it then,” he said happily. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

It was nearing midnight, but Jaime was wide awake. Instead of returning to his chambers and wasting time lying in his bed awaiting sleep, he decided to go for a stroll in the gardens.

“Not able to sleep, brother?” Jaime jumped, taken by surprise at the interruption of his solitude and turned around to find Tyrion who had sneaked up behind him quietly.

“Do you derive pleasure in scaring me like this, Tyrion? Or is there a reason for you to be lurking around at this odd hour?”

“I saw you leave,” Tyrion explained. “I was worried and followed you out wondering where you were going.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jaime continued to pace restlessly. “I’m not sleepy, so I came out for some fresh air.”

“Why aren’t you sleepy?”

“I don’t know! Stop questioning everything,” Jaime was reminded of a ten year old version of himself standing in front of Tywin, trying to find an excuse for a prank he was caught red handed for.

“I’m worried about you,” Tyrion looked genuinely concerned. “Not that it is any of my business, but does your anxiety have anything to do with what happened in that library?”

“Whatever you saw was all that happened in there,” Jaime asserted, although he could never explain to Tyrion how he had felt. When he had held Brienne, he had to fight hard to keep his impulse in check. He had to muster every bit of self control to resist the urge to kiss her then and there, to fling her on the table and--

“Really?” Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that I interrupted something--aah--interesting?”

“No!” _Thank the gods, you walked in on us, Tyrion!_ He had entered King’s Landing with every intention of staying away from Brienne, but instead of trying harder he had ended up inviting her for the training session tomorrow. Why the hell did he do that?

“That ‘ _no’_ sounds a bit too emphatic to me… somewhat forced or, how shall I put it...artificial?” Tyrion raised his brows. “Did I really walk into what I thought I did?”

“I don’t want to know what you thought it was,” Jaime was thankful that his brother couldn’t see him blush in the dark.

“Do you still love Cersei?” Tyrion asked him suddenly as they walked back to the castle.

“Ofcourse, she’s our sister,” Jaime had to make an effort to keep his voice steady.

“You know that was not what I meant, Jaime,” Tyrion stopped abruptly and turned to him.

Ignoring him, Jaime picked up pace again. “Goodnight, Tyrion,” he evaded the question and they parted ways, leaving for their respective chambers.

Flinging himself on his bed as soon as he undressed, he stared blankly at the ceiling mulling over what Tyrion had asked him. More than the bluntness of the question, he was taken aback by his reluctance to answer it. What he felt for Cersei was clear, there were no second thoughts about it, nor any regrets till date. He had never even bothered hiding it from people, then why the hesitation in acknowledging it tonight? And that too, in front of his own brother who knew everything about it?

+++++

“My lady,” Bronn looked away from Jaime for a second, acknowledging Brienne’s entry when they were in the middle of their third sparring session that morning. Rather, Bronn had been attacking him left and right, while he just moved here and there a bit, uselessly trying to defend himself with his useless left hand and the useless sparring sword.

“Brienne,” he panted, turning to her. His attention was diverted from the fight for just a fraction of a second when Bronn took advantage of the distraction and lunged at him, albeit a bit too forcibly. Jaime defensively took a step backward, not knowing that he was standing at the edge, and lost his balance, tumbling into the water below.

Taken unawares by this stupid accident, Jaime tried to keep himself afloat and swim to the shore. While he was a good swimmer, and no doubt this was nothing life threatening and he was confident of making it back, the suddenness of the situation had left him slightly stunned, delaying his reaction. Nevertheless, slowly and steadily he made his way back to the bank. He was almost there, when strong arms wound around him and dragged him back to safety.

“Brienne,” he coughed, when they were back on solid ground. He had been meaning to tell her that he could manage and she could let go of him, but couldn’t speak as he had swallowed a huge mouthful of water. Deciding not to resist, he had eventually allowed himself to be pulled ashore, his shirt bearing the brunt of her onslaught. It was only after a while that the awkwardness of the situation struck him. He was lying on his back, his shirt ripped open by the force of Brienne dragging him along and she lay on top of him, breathing heavily. Despite noting that he was safe and sound, she threw her arms around him, clinging to him for dear life.

“I’m alive, Brienne,” he whispered in her ear. Her face was still buried in his chest. He could feel her chest heaving against his, her heart thumping much harder than normal, the beat interspersed with his. It was he who almost drowned, but to his surprise, she was the one who was shivering. He couldn’t resist putting his arms around her and stroking her wet hair.

Her body relaxing into his, she raised her head, looking at him. “You could have died,” she said hoarsely, her stormy blue eyes reflecting the tension that was running through her.

“I can swim, wench,” he reassured her gently. “I would have reached the shore without help. I really am fine.”

“I just t...thought,” she stammered, her eyes full of concern “I didn’t know if you had the confidence to pull yourself back, after all we...you have been through. I thought you needed help, I thought, I couldn't risk leaving you there... but now, I realize it was silly of me.” She turned red, squirming in his arms, only now comprehending the delicate nature of their position.

Jaime felt a wide range of sensations hit his body as he allowed himself to take a proper look at her. Apart from her mesmerising eyes which never failed to take his breath away, the wet hair plastered to her face and the outline of her breasts evident against the transparent wet shirt made him stare at her despite his will. Her body pressed against his, and her taut nipples pushing into his bare chest did strange things to him, things that were out of his control. He saw her eyes grow wide when she felt the growing bulge in his trousers.

“I should get up,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The way she blushed only aggravated his already pathetic situation.

“Go ahead,” his voice came out huskier than intended.

“How can she, when you’re holding her so tight? You have to let go of her first, my lord,” Jaime looked up to see Bronn grinning at them, obviously having fun at their expense.

Jaime immediately pulled away from her and sat up as soon as she was on her feet, not daring to stand, for fear of revealing his condition to his annoying companion. Brienne turned away to straighten her shirt without sparing a glance towards either of them.

“I think you should get up too,” Bronn held out a hand to him, looking amused.

Ignoring him, Jaime stood up, and reached for his jacket that he had left on the ledge before the fight.

“Wear this,” he tossed it to Brienne. “You can’t go back to the castle looking like that.” _Wet and transparent, I don’t want you to attract any unnecessary attention._

“Thank you.” She hurried away without waiting or daring to look at either of them.

“You really are protective of her,” Bronn noted. “Though, she can take care of herself.”

“I know,” Jaime snapped. “I just don’t want her to be the target of any male attention, particularly that Oberyn Martell.” He couldn’t mask the bitterness in his voice when he mentioned the prince.

“I take back my words,” Bronn smirked. “You aren’t being protective of her. You are _possessive_ of her.”

“Shut up, Bronn.” _Why the hell were Bronn and Tyrion right about everything they said about him?_

“Don’t worry,” Bronn laughed. “Your lady is not interested in him.”

“As if I care,” Jaime muttered as they climbed the stairs leading out of the place. A sudden realization dawned on him as he mentally went over everything that had happened in the last few minutes. “Did you do that on purpose?” he glared at Bronn. “You deliberately led me to the edge where the water was the closest to the shore, so that you could accidentally-on-purpose tip me over, didn’t you?”

“Why would I?” Bronn gave him an innocent look. “I’m being paid to train you, which is to keep you alive, not kill you.”

“Not to kill me, I just thought you were trying to…” Since his return home, Jaime had the uncomfortable feeling that Tyrion, aided by Bronn was up to some weird plan of matchmaking, trying to get Brienne and him together by hook or crook.

“Anyone who pushes you off shore would only do it with the intention to harm you,” Bronn defended himself. “Besides, I have your brother to answer to, if I ever attempt anything like that.”

“No matter how hard you try, it’s not going to happen,” Jaime said stubbornly, not bothering to explain the context. Bronn knew, and he would understand.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bronn replied, obviously feigning ignorance.

 _Pretend all you can, but I know it was you conspiring with my brother,_ Jaime muttered under his breath, inaudible to the irritating sellsword. They walked back to the keep in silence, leaving him to ponder what Brienne might think about him, rather about his _arousal,_ to be specific. He had been through a similar predicament in Harrenhal, but that was different. That didn’t involve physical contact, and Brienne had no clue about it. He had been through similar situations a couple of times on their journey back, but again, the wench had been oblivious of it. This, however, was the most embarrassing thing that could happen to him. He was now worried if she would ever look at him again, let alone talk to him normally.

“I could’ve drowned,” he said loudly, still unable to come to terms with the idea that Bronn had done such a thing to him. “Or worse still, cut my head open on the rocks.”

“Nonsense! You can swim, and there were no rocks where you fell,” Bronn waved him away. “Are you worried?” he asked Jaime after a little pause.

“About what?”

“That,” Bronn pointed to his trousers, increasing Jaime’s discomfort. “It’s a natural reaction, I’m sure she wouldn’t think ill of you for that.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Jaime retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I do what I can to help,” Bronn shrugged. “It was chivalrous of you to have given her your jacket.”

“Any respectable gentleman would’ve done the same.”

“Aye,” Bronn agreed. “But, I must warn you that you’re the only one in the keep who owns such a piece of clothing. Seeing it on her might raise a few unwanted eyebrows.”

That didn’t occur to him. A new wave of panic washed over him when he realized the implication of what he had done, hoping that Brienne wouldn’t have to suffer unwarranted taunts on his account.

“Don’t let that worry you now,” Bronn broke into his thoughts, almost as if he could read his mind. “It can be dealt with when it comes. I must tell you, though, that red leather suits you. No wonder the lady is so besotted with you.”

“She’s not,” Jaime said uneasily. “She has seen me at my worst, and what I look like now is not going to make or break her opinion about me.”

“And what is her opinion about you?” Bronn studied him carefully.

They had just walked into the keep, and Jaime was saved from replying when they were confronted by Cersei who had eyes only for her brother.

“I wish to speak to my brother alone,” she announced, not bothering to look at Bronn, who gave Jaime a short nod and left.

She continued glaring at him for a long time. “You look--” she looked at him from head to toe, the mounting displeasure on her face growing apparent “--harassed. What happened to you? I thought you were out training with Bronn.”

“Where else would I be? I met with a small accident--”

“Is it a coincidence that I happened to spot Brienne of Tarth, looking as wet and hassled as you are?” her eyes shone with a malevolence that he had never seen before. She continued in the same acidic tone when Jaime chose to remain silent. “What happened to you?” she repeated.

“Bronn struck me a little too hard and I fell over. I have to go and change--” Jaime wanted to finish this conversation soon and get away to his chambers and into a fresh set of clothes before anyone else saw him like this, but Cersei seemed to be in no mood to let him go.

“In that case I understand the state of your appearance,” she interrupted, giving him another scathing look. “But why was _she_ all wet and disheveled?”

“She jumped in to save me.”

“Why? Can’t you swim?” she spat, her anger and her voice rising by the second.

“Ofcourse I can, but she was unaware of that. She didn’t want me to drown--” _Why the fuck am I explaining myself to her?_

“Why was she wearing your jacket?”

“I didn’t want to send her back like that, wet and clumsy,” he looked at her defiantly. For fuck’s sake, he had done the right thing, and his sister had no right to question him. “She’s a respectable woman.”

“Is she in love with you?” He could sense the growing spite in her voice.

“What the hell makes you think so?” It was time to clear her misconceptions.

“Do you think I know nothing?” she asked venomously. “Qyburn told me everything that happened between the two of you, how close you are to her, and how you couldn’t stand it when she almost died.”

 _That untrustworthy cunt!_ His assessment of Qyburn had been right from the beginning. “How do you expect me to respond to that?” he clenched his fist, furious with Qyburn. “I don’t deny any of it, nor do I want to defend my actions. All I can say, is that the only thing between us is mutual respect and care.”

“Care?” she laughed mirthlessly, pausing for a bit. “Do you love her?”

“I think that’s enough, Cersei,” he bolted out of there, leaving her rooted to the spot, staring after him.

+++++

It was well past bedtime and Jaime paced around his chambers, agitated and restless as he constantly replayed the events of the day in his mind. As if the misadventure with Brienne was not enough, to add to his distress was his altercation with Cersei. It rudely reminded him of the blunt reality that Brienne was no longer safe here. He had to get her out of the city immediately.

He had been planning to speak to Tyrion about letting Sansa go with her, but realized that there may no longer be time for it. He had to smuggle the girl out of King’s Landing, if it came to that. He would probably do it first and tell Tyrion later. He might have to wait for Joffrey’s wedding to be over, for security until then around the city gates would be tighter than usual. He had to time her exit well. He had to keep her safe from his sister, no matter what, and he would.

Once he was satisfied with this plan, his mind came to dwell on the second matter that had been troubling him throughout the day. The morning’s encounter with Brienne and his reaction to it. _If only his cock had listened to his head and seen reason instead of…_ All day he had been brooding and fretting about what she might have thought of him.

Impulsively, he left the room and made his way to her chambers. He had to explain himself, apologize, and clarify that _it_ meant nothing. Hoping she didn’t think ill of him, he knocked on her door.

“Who is it?” she sounded feeble and very… unlike her.

“It’s me,” he answered. “I have to talk to you for a minute, wench.”

“Come in, the door’s open.”

Jaime entered, closing the door behind him and saw Brienne crouched on the bed, clutching her chest, her face twisted in pain.

“What’s the matter?” he rushed to her side, and tried to pull her hand off the wound to check the damage.

“The wound is infected, exposure to the unclean water is the cause, it seems,” she grimaced. “It stings like hell.”

“I’ll go and fetch Qyburn,” Jaime got up to leave when she stopped him.

“He has already taken a look. There’s nothing more to be done.”

“Then you should rest, I can come later,” Jaime decided to let her be, his uncomfortable discussion could wait till tomorrow.

“He has asked me to clean the area every few hours, and I’m unable to…” she looked away and began struggling with her dress.

“Do you need help getting out of the dress?”

She nodded. “If you could summon one of the maids, Ser Jaime, it would be of great help. I’ve been looking for them for quite a while, but none of them seem to be around.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he dashed to the door and fumbled with the knob, only to realize that it wouldn’t open.

“Is there a problem with your door, wench?” he called out, fiddling with it, trying to move it left and right. “It seems to be stuck.”

“It was fine a while ago.”

After struggling for a few minutes, Jaime gave up, cursing under his breath. He came back and sat down next to her, marveling at the ridiculous nature of their strange problem. “Looks like we’re stuck here for a while,” he concluded, trying not to think about the potential complications that could arise out of spending the night with her. “But first things first, let’s get you out of your clothes.” He moved closer, but to his surprise, she recoiled. “Don’t be stupid, Brienne, allow me to assist you,” he scolded.

“We can call for help,” she suggested hopefully. “Should we shout or bang on the door?”

“There was no one outside when I came,” he recollected, the peculiarity of the lack of human presence outside only now striking him. “There’s no point even screaming at the top of our voices.” He pulled out a sheet from a clean stack kept on the bedside table and tossed it to her. “Use this to cover yourself.”

After much coaxing and cajoling, when she finally allowed him to touch her, he began unlacing her gown, his fingers shivering and unsteady as he went about it nervously. She turned red, and quickly covered her breasts with her arms when he pulled the dress down to her chest. “I’m not looking, Brienne, don’t worry.” He found himself blushing equally hard, hoping against hope that his body didn’t react to her again.

“I can manage the rest, Ser Jaime,” she mumbled.

“Wrap that sheet around yourself while I prepare a bath for you.” Once he was done, she entered the bath and when he was finally alone in the room, he let out a heavy sigh. His heart was beating at twice its normal speed as he sank on the bed, holding his head. _I’m in for big trouble._

“Tell me if you need any help,” he called out, and then closed his eyes wondering how he would survive the night. The wench made him feel things-emotions and sensations that he had never experienced with Cersei.

When she had finished bathing, he helped her into a fresh set of bedclothes, taking care not to look at her, or touch her more than necessary. He felt her stiffen when his fingers once accidentally brushed against her breasts. _She’s as uncomfortable with this as I am!_ “Sorry,” he said brusquely, continuing with the task with an intention to get it over with, and end his torture as soon as he could.

Or, was this just the beginning of his torture?

“Let me try the door again,” he got up when she was fully dressed, fervently hoping that the door would open. Unfortunately for him, it refused to budge.

“Looks like I’m going to have to spend the night here,” he resigned himself to his fate and went back, hoping for the night to pass without incident.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter for obvious reasons ;) Hope you had fun reading it. Do let me know :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they spend the night together, there's some banter, a few confessions, and some... unavoidable UST.

“You can’t sleep here!” It was only when her pain had subsided to a manageable extent, did Brienne come to terms the gravity of the situation. Terrified with the prospect of spending the night with Jaime in the same room, she was unable to maintain her composure despite trying her level best to stay calm.

“What do you expect me to do? Jump off the window? It’s not my fault, wench, that I got locked in here,” Jaime scowled at her. “As if I would stick with you if I had a choice!”

 _No, you wouldn’t,_ she agreed with a heavy heart, no man in his right senses would. She sat down in a corner of the bed with her back to him.

“You don’t have to shy away from me like this,” he snapped. “I won’t bite you. It’s not like we’re doing this for the first time. We’ve shared a room before.”

 _Yes, we have, but nothing’s the same now._ Her face burning with embarrassment in anticipation of the night to come, she still refused to look at him while he made his way to the other end of the bed and took his place there, the gap between them as wide as the Narrow Sea.

“If it bothers you so much, I can sleep on the floor, Brienne,” he said slowly, taking her silence for discomfort.

“That won’t be necessary,” she quickly turned to him. “You can sleep on the bed, just keep away--”

“Don’t worry, I’m not interested,” his tone was unnecessarily brusque.

Brienne watched in horror as he began taking his jacket off. A sudden chill ran through her as she imagined what was to come next. _Is he going to take all his clothes off?_ Her problems seemed to be increasing by the minute. Fortunately for her, he stopped, leaving his shirt and trousers intact. Ofcourse, he unlaced his shirt, leaving it open at the front for her to enjoy a glorious view of his chest. After the incident that morning, the image of his wonderfully muscular chest was so firmly etched in her mind that it wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried. To add to her already existing woes, this, she was sure was going to be the cause of her sleeplessness tonight. Her alarmingly increasing attraction for him apart, her heart sank when she dwelled on his blatant expression of his disinterest.

“What are you thinking about, wench?” he peered at her curiously. “I can sleep on the floor if you feel insecure--”

“I am not insecure,” she glowered at him. “If anyone has to sleep on the floor, it should be me. You’ve been used to comforts all your life, whereas I, on the other hand--”

“Do you mean to say that I can’t endure hardships?” He got off the bed and strode towards her, glaring down at her with his hand on his hip. Disregarding her newfound discovery that he looked even more handsome when aggressive and angry, she decided to concentrate on the argument at hand.

“Well, yes,” she said obstinately, standing up to match his height. “Remember, on that bridge, when you complained about your boots, and how they led to corns on your feet, those are all the signs of a pampered prince, Ser Jaime,” she had to bite back a smile at the memory of that swordfight.

“That wasn’t true. It was just to distract you,” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking at her sheepishly. “The only thing on my mind that day was to kill you and break free.” He studied her face carefully. “Do you still feel the same about me, Brienne? Am I the same old arrogant asshole in your opinion?”

“Would I be here with you if I thought so?” Brienne had to fight hard to hide her true feelings from him.

“No, you wouldn't,” Jaime agreed, giving her his most charming smile as he returned to his spot on the bed. “Nevertheless, I thought, I’d check.”

“Would you have killed me?” she asked after some deliberation. “If I had faltered that day, if I had made that one mistake and if you had the chance, would you have gone ahead and cut me down?”

“I might have,” an odd expression flashed across his face. “I really can’t say. The only thing I can assure you, is that I don’t regret losing to you that day. I’m not sure how things would have gone had it been the other way round.”

“Why did you save me from being raped?” she went on, wanting some answers. “That was just hours after you tried to kill me. What made you change your mind about me in such a short span of time?”

“Losing your life in a fight is one thing, Brienne, though I don’t really know if I might have actually gone for the kill, but rape is another...” his face contorted with rage. “Rape is unpardonable. I can’t bear the thought of watching a woman being violated and doing nothing about it. I may be many things-kingslayer, oathbreaker, man without honour… but I have enough decency in me to try and prevent a woman from being dishonoured.”

 _So, it was chivalry,_ she thought, her heart sinking. _I was just another woman to be saved among the hundreds he already must have rescued. There’s nothing special about me._

“I had desperately wanted to protect the honour of a woman once, and I failed,” there was a haunted look in his eyes. “Every night, I had to stand guard and listen to Aerys rape his wife while I could do nothing to prevent it,” he sighed heavily. “When it came to you, when I saw you being violated by those cunts, I just couldn’t sit and watch you scream. I was possessed by an instinct to protect you, an urge to do something about it. I just had to--” he stopped, visibly shaken by the recollection of that fateful night.

Her gaze dropped to the bed. “I never thanked you for what you did for me that night,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to express my gratitude--”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, Brienne.” It was now Jaime’s turn to be flustered. “Everything I told you earlier...about you…”

“All the insults that you hurled at me, you mean?” she prompted, still upset with the way he had incessantly mocked her in the past.

“Hmm,” he blushed slightly. “There’s nothing more I regret than the way I treated you then. I apologize for everything I said.”

“It’s alright,” she shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I don’t blame you. You hated me then.”

“I didn’t exactly hate you, though I tried very hard,” he avoided her eyes. “It’s instinct, isn’t it? I wanted to hate you, you were my adversary and I was your hostage.”

“And…did you succeed?”

“Does it look like I did, wench?” he asked, his voice abnormally soft. “What I feel about you now is very different from what I used to think about you then.”

“What do you think about me now?”

“I think you’re among the best in swordplay. I admire your skills, your courage, your honour. I respect you, Brienne, and I...” he stopped abruptly, staring into the distance.

_Respect and admiration for my qualities. That’s all it always boils down to! I have been a fool to expect more than this when I have always known nothing was ever going to happen._

_I am an idiot to have fallen in love with him!_

“You are as much a lady as Cersei, Catelyn Stark, Sansa or any other highborn woman I can think of,” Jaime went on. “I take back all that I said about you on our first meeting.”

“ _Is that a woman,”_ she reminded him, mimicking his condescending tone.

“I remember,” he nodded, a boyish smile gracing his lips and his expression akin to a little boy caught playing mischief. “I apologize for my insolence, my lady. As Tyrion says, many times I say things that I don’t really mean.”

“It’s fine, Ser Jaime.”

It was anything but fine. _‘You’re a virgin, I take it’._ Another taunt that he had casually thrown at her came to her mind, another of his statements which stung like hell. If she looked at it objectively, he had been right in his assessment of her. The path she had chosen for herself meant she would remain a maiden for life. Why did that eventuality suddenly bother her? No matter what her feelings for him, her choices in life were made and set in stone. Why did his words matter so much?

Before she could dwell too much on it, Jaime had thankfully decided to change the subject. “We need to find a way to open this door.” Going back to the door, he tried the knob, finding no success yet again.

“I can’t imagine the rumours this might give rise to,” Brienne wondered aloud, dreading the possibility of a potential scandal. Only now did the impact of this disastrous accident strike her.

Sighing heavily, he returned to the bed and sat next to her, a little too close for comfort. “I won’t let anyone point fingers at your honour, Brienne,” he said softly, placing his hand on hers. “Do you trust me?”

_More than my life._

She tried to ignore the tingling sensation his touch had set off inside her. “You know, I do, but your sister--”

“Don’t worry about my sister,” he waved away her concern. “I can manage her. For all I know, she’s the least of my problems tonight,” he muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged her off again.

Jaime settled down, getting ready to retire for the night. He stretched his arms, yawning, the action causing his shirt to spread open even wider. She had seen him naked before, but that was entirely different. She caught a glimpse of his strong shoulders, his collarbone, his arms... how would those arms feel around her? The pleasant ache in her groin that had set in a while ago only worsened with such thoughts, and the sight of his bare skin left goosebumps all over her body.

“Good night, Ser Jaime.”

Deciding that the best solution was to turn her back to him and pretend he didn’t exist, Brienne finally retired to bed, calling it a night.

 

*****

 

Jaime had been struggling to keep his eyes open for quite a while. After the recent incidents, he couldn’t trust himself to sleep next to Brienne without fearing that he might subconsciously attempt something that could be deemed inappropriate. Never having imagined his brother to be stupid enough to play such a ridiculous prank, he wanted to speak to Tyrion the first thing in the morning. His blood ran cold at the thought of Cersei’s reaction if she got wind of this. But there was nothing he could do about it for the moment, except hope that Tyrion or Bronn had the good sense to let him out at daybreak before anyone else could spot them together.

Trying his best not to fall asleep, he sat up against the pillow, focussing his attention on Brienne. She was sleeping with her back to him, and he couldn’t help noticing that her hair had grown slightly longer than it had been when he had first met her. As his eyes travelled down to her neck, he noticed that her skin was as pale and smooth as it had always been, but somehow, he found it all the more appealing now.

She stirred in her sleep, and suddenly jerked awake with a loud yelp.

“What is it?” he called out, alarmed, getting off the bed and rushing to her side. Had she been through a nightmare?

Brienne tried to get up, but fell back, crying out in pain. It was only then that he noticed that the front of her robes were covered in blood. “My chest,” she gasped. “Hurts terribly...”

“Gods!” Jaime panicked, for a moment unsure about what to do. He was no stranger to blood, but Brienne being covered in a copious amount of it took him back to the dreadful attack on her earlier. “You might have broken a stitch in your sleep,” he said, scooping her in his arms.

“I can walk,” she insisted, trying to resist him.

“I know, but I’d rather carry you,” he barked. “I can’t risk you losing any more blood.”

He carried her to the bathtub and sat her down at the edge. He fetched a basin of water and a clean cloth to stem the flow of blood and dress the wound. “Try not to move,” he ordered, as he began taking her blood-stained clothes off as gently as he could.

“Don’t you dare--” she pulled away, her face filled with horror at the realization of what he was doing.

“Quiet, wench,” he continued to undress her, paying no attention to her grumbling and whining.

“You can’t see me like this--”

“There’s nothing I haven’t seen before, so don’t worry, I’m immune to it,” he reassured her. Or, was he trying to reassure himself? Despite her excruciating pain, he noticed that she was blushing.

Holding his breath, he tossed the blood soaked robe away and concentrated on her wound, making a conscious effort not to let his eyes wander, trying to overlook the painful fact that she was as naked as her name day. He wiped the blood off her body and pressed the cloth tightly on the cut in a desperate attempt to arrest the bleeding.

Brienne squirmed a bit, but he pinned her down. “Stay still,” he ordered. To his relief, the bleeding had ceased after a while. His fingers shaking uncontrollably, he applied the tincture to her sore wound which had now turned an angry shade of red.

Now that his initial fear and worry had subsided, Jaime let his gaze linger on her body. Even in the pale glow of the solitary candle, he could count the freckles on her skin. He could clearly make out the freshly sprouted goosebumps all over her neck and chest. His cock stirred as his eyes fell on her breasts heaving as she took short quick breaths. He couldn’t help coming to the conclusion that her modest breasts would fit perfectly in his palm! _I have to get this over with quickly,_ he decided, a fresh bout of panic hitting him for a completely different reason this time.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispered, blushing even deeper if it were possible.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, averting his eyes immediately. He began to get harder at her reaction, his arousal now too painful to bear.

 _She’s just reacting to my touch. It’s natural, it doesn’t mean she feels anything for me. She’s hurt. What would a maester in my place have done? What would Qyburn have done?_ He was struck by a wave of jealousy and anger as he pictured Qyburn attending to her injury instead of him. _Thank the gods, it’s me. I can’t let Qyburn see her like this._ He wanted to push these evil thoughts off his mind, though the idea of what his lips would feel like on her wonderfully supple skin refused to leave his head.

“You should be okay in a while,” he said hoarsely, once he had finished dressing her wound, relieved that the ordeal was finally over.

When he was about to assist her back to bed, Brienne pointed to his chest. “Your shirt,” she frowned.

Looking down at himself, Jaime saw that his shirt was completely wet, partly due to her blood, and partly because he had bathed her wounds without bothering to care much about his clothes. Without thinking, he took his shirt off and tossed it away.

“I’m better, I can walk,” she objected, when he bent down to pick her up again.

“Fine,” he knew better than to insist. He wrapped his arm around her waist with the intention of walking her back to the bed.

“What’re you doing?” she cried out, alarmed.

“Put your arm around my neck so you can walk with my help.”

Reluctantly, she did as instructed. It was only after she touched him that Jaime realized that he was half-naked as well. _Thank you, brother, for the most awkward night of my life!_ He felt a shiver down his spine as her fingers brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck.

“There you are,” he set her down on the bed. She lay down, wincing slightly.

“I need something…” she looked down at herself, reddening.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he pulled the sheet on her, covering her up to the chin. Getting back to his side, he forced himself to ignore the involuntary reaction of his body that was threatening to become prominently obvious now. For a while he sat still, watching her drift to sleep once again, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

_Why the fuck am I drawn to her repeatedly despite trying to stay away?_

+++++

Jaime’s eyes opened to the first rays of the sun streaming through the window. Brienne was still asleep, having slightly encroached on his side of the bed. Fortunately, they had managed to avoid any kind of physical contact while asleep! The sheet that was meant to cover her was lying a good few inches away from her, leaving her bare and deliciously enticing.

Before he could get the sheet back on her again, she woke up. Taking one look at her nearly complete nakedness and his semi-nude state, she panicked. “Gods, no!” she cried out, pulling the sheet back up to her chest, covering her modesty.

“Why didn’t you…do something about it?” she glared at him as if he held sole responsibility to her state.

“I was about to,” he felt himself blush. “Before I could, you woke up.”

Holding the sheet tightly to her chest, she crawled farther away from him, curling up in her corner, turning her back to him again.

“You don’t have to be that over cautious,” he mumbled, a bit offended that she found the prospect of his touch so repulsive. “I have no special interest in touching you...or staring at you.”

She threw him a scowl, and looked ready to reply with a scathing remark, when the door swung open, startling them both.

“M’lady,” a girl, presumably Brienne’s maid, barged in. Taking one look at Brienne clad in nothing but a bedsheet, and Jaime shirtless, the girl’s eyes went round with shock. “I saw the door locked from outside, m’lord...m’lady, I thought you might be in trouble...” she stood speechless for a second. “I’ll come later,” she rushed away, leaving the two of them embarrassed and appalled at the consequences this could result in.

“She’s going to tell your sister,” Brienne’s eyes were wide with fear and shame. “This is not good,” she lamented.

Jaime placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she doesn’t tell Cersei--”

She pushed his hand away roughly. “You’re not the affected party here, Ser Jaime,” she lashed out angrily. “It’s my honour that is at stake. In the eyes of the kingdom, I have spent the night with a man who is not my husband. Can it get any worse?”

“I understand your fear,” he tried to pacify her. “I assure you, not another soul will know.”

When she was silent, he decided not to waste any more time. “We’ll talk later, Brienne. Before anyone else happens to knock on the door, I’d better leave. I’ll ask Qyburn to take a look at those stitches.” Donning the same blood stained shirt, he headed straight for Tyrion’s chambers.

“Do you have anything to say about what happened last night?” he confronted Tyrion directly.

“What happened last night?” Tyrion asked, genuinely surprised.

“You locked me in Brienne’s bedchambers, forcing me to spend the night with her,” Jaime was livid. “Before playing such a prank, did it even occur to you that her honour might be at stake? Did you even bother to think--”

“Wait,” Tyrion held out a hand to stop him. “What are you going on about? I did no such thing.”

“Are you telling me it wasn’t one of your attempts to--” Jaime paused.

“Attempts to what?”

“Never mind, must have been Bronn then, if not you.”

“Bronn wouldn’t do such a thing either,” Tyrion was confident. “Assuming no one saw you, how does it really matter?”

“That’s where the problem is,” Jaime hissed. “Brienne’s maid barged in on us when we were--”

“When you were…?” Tyrion waited, his lips curling in a sly smile. “What were you both doing, Jaime?”

Jaime flushed, but went on to tell his brother that the girl had seen them in a semi-naked state.

“May I ask, what you were doing in bed in a state of undress?” Tyrion tried to hide his amusement, but miserably failed.

“Her wound had opened up and I was trying to patch it for her,” Jaime said defensively. “I got blood on my shirt, had to take it off...”

“Hmmm,” Tyrion seemed to consider his words for a moment. “Let’s say, I do believe you brother, I see a simple solution to this. There’s no need to panic.”

“What do you propose?” Jaime looked at his brother curiously.

“We find the maid, give her a fat amount of gold to shut her up,” Tyrion said simply. “We’re Lannisters. Gold solves any, and every problem for us.”

“I don’t know,” Jaime was unsure about the plan. “I’m worried about the rumours that might crop up.”

“There won’t be any rumours if the girl doesn’t open her mouth,” Tyrion assured him. “Don’t worry, I’ll find her and make sure she keeps quiet. Your secret is safe with me, which brings me to the main question,” Tyrion looked at him thoughtfully “Who did this?”

“Whoever did it is out to hurt Brienne,” Jaime said glumly. “All I want is for no harm to come to Brienne’s reputation. She’s an honourable woman, she doesn’t deserve this.”

“You really do care for her, don’t you?”

“Ofcourse, I do,” he replied, uncomfortable that Tyrion had so bluntly confronted him.

“And she feels the same about you.”

“I don’t know what she--”

“I’m not asking you, Jaime, I’m telling you,” Tyrion’s eyes bore into his, making him want to crawl under the table and hide. “Though, I fail to see what the problem is.”

“I really don’t want to discuss this right now--”

“You’re an idiot, brother. The feelings are mutual, she’s a highborn lady and father would approve,” he explained, as if reasoning with a child. “What more could you ask for?”

“I belong to Cersei,” Jaime said stubbornly, though the idea no longer made him as happy as it always used to. “I belong to the Kingsguard. Does that answer your question?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Tyrion shook his head. “But if it answers yours, and if you’re satisfied, then I’m glad. But looking at you, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“I have no doubts about what I want,” Jaime wanted to sound as assertive as he could.

“Really?” Tyrion regarded him carefully. “Ask yourself again, and this time try to be a little more honest with yourself, brother. Listen to your heart, and not your head, for the brain often tends to lead us astray where matters such as these are concerned. Once you’re convinced, you will have the answer to my question.”

That morning, for the first time in many years, Jaime walked out of Tyrion’s chambers with a doubt slowly creeping into his mind. He wondered if Cersei really was the woman he truly desired, the burden of that question weighing him down more than anything else ever had.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As we delve deeper into Jaime's confused mind, Tyrion unleashes another trick or two.

“So your brother finally had the balls to admit that he loves her?” Bronn poured another drink for himself, partly surprised and partly amused on hearing Tyrion's story.

“Not exactly,” Tyrion replied, a bit demoralized with the progress of events. A week had passed, but Jaime had not yet met Brienne after that eventful night. His stubborn brother had now begun to take additional efforts to stay away from her. “He’s getting there, he just needs another little nudge from us.”

“Spending the night with his lady must have been a good thing for him. We owe a big thanks to whoever did that. Their true motive apart, it turned out in our favour,” Bronn grinned, indicating his approval. “I’d say, let’s do something similar to get them closer. The only way to get them together is to drive them to fook--”

“One step at a time, Bronn. We must be careful not to raise Cersei’s suspicions,” the possibility of such a thing happening had been nagging Tyrion ever since Jaime had drilled it into his head. “I had to spend quite an amount of gold to keep that maid quiet.”

“He’s still in love with your sister?”

Tyrion stared down at his wine. “No, I’m damn sure he isn’t,” being able to read his brother like a book, he was now certain about it, all his doubts put to rest after his last conversation with Jaime. “He just doesn’t want to come to terms with it, but it’s obvious that he is madly in love with Lady Brienne.” He got up and began pacing the room thoughtfully. “We have to make him realize and act on it soon, before Cersei can work her magic on him and spin him around her little finger again.”

“That she will,” Bronn frowned in agreement.

“We’ve got to push him harder,” Tyrion had the next plan of action ready in his mind, waiting to be executed. “I know exactly what we need to do--” he froze when he saw Jaime approaching them.

“What brings you here, Jaime?” he rose, greeting his brother with a warm smile.

“Did you manage to find the girl and do whatever you had to do?” Jaime asked, anxiety writ large on his face.

“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word.” Tyrion’s words seemed to have a calming effect on him, and he relaxed a bit, slumping wearily into one of the vacant chairs.

“I hope so,” he sighed, drumming his fingers on the table restlessly. “I don’t want to--”

“--see her suffer,” Tyrion finished. “We know. How is she now?”

Jaime leaned towards his brother. “I haven’t been to see her after that day.” Was that guilt in his eyes? “But she should be fine by now. Qyburn was supposed to have had another look at her today.”

“About that,” Tyrion cleared his throat, eager to put his plan into action. “I heard, it wasn’t Qyburn, but Pycelle who had been to examine her. Qyburn was unavailable--”

“WHAT?” Jaime shouted, glaring at his brother. “Despite being well aware of what that old man is capable of, you did nothing to prevent it? Had I known about it...” he stopped, his eyes blazing with anger.

Tyrion was immensely pleased with himself. Jaime’s visible rage meant that half his job was done. “I could do nothing, Jaime, there was no other alternative. I see your problem, though,” he suppressed a smile. “You’re jealous, aren't you? You can’t stand the sight of any other man getting close to her.”

“I AM NOT JEALOUS,” Jaime was still shouting, sounding nothing but jealous. “This is the lecherous cunt Pycelle we're talking about.”

“The lady can take care of herself if he tries anything inappropriate,” Tyrion pretended to pacify him.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Jaime muttered. “She’s hurt. What if he tried to--”

“It’s not just about him, you’re jealous about everyone,” Bronn chimed in. “That day, it was Prince Oberyn, tomorrow it might be someone else.”

“Precisely,” Tyrion agreed. “That reminds me, Oberyn Martell was supposed to take a walk around the gardens this evening, and I’ve come to hear that he invited Lady Brienne along. He seemed to have suggested that a walk in the fresh air might do her some good.” He planted the seed, hoping for the second half of his plan to take shape.

“I’m sure, she would’ve refused.” The doubt in Jaime’s voice made it sound more like a question than an affirmation.

“Oh, I don’t know, brother. Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

Jaime got up abruptly and stormed away, clearly disturbed, agitated and angry.

“Good,” Tyrion gave Bronn a satisfied smile. “That’ll keep him running around the lady for the rest of the evening. Now for our plan to mitigate the actual problem at hand…”

“Which is…?”

“Cersei is arranging for a celebration tomorrow night,” Tyrion enlightened his companion, revealing his sister’s plan. “It’s going to be a proper dinner with family and friends. After that she's planning for an intimate night with Jaime,” he made a face, disgusted with the very idea.

“How do you know?”

“I came to know that she has given special orders to her handmaiden to arrange for perfumed candles for her chambers, fresh flowers, and the gods only know what else,” he refused to let his imagination run amok in the wrong direction.

“So you concluded that she’s planning to fuck your brother?” Bronn looked doubtful. “Isn’t that too bold, that too when your father would be around in the vicinity?”

“Cersei’s been away from him too long. She wants him,” Tyrion knew his sister too well. “I’m sure since his return they’ve not yet… fucked. So I wouldn’t put it past her to take a little risk for a night of pleasure.”

“I’m sure you want us to do something about it? Prevent your brother from spending the night with her?”

“We have no choice. One night in her arms is all it would take for him to be bewitched by her again. And I know exactly what to do, my friend,” Tyrion smiled, knowing he was going to enjoy this.

 

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

 

“Ser Jaime!” Brienne opened the door, surprised to see him pay her a visit so late. Jaime noticed that she was in her bedclothes, ready to call it a night. Given the awkward nature of their last meeting, he was unsure how to begin the conversation.

“Had a good evening, wench?” _What’s wrong with me? That wasn’t supposed to come out all sarcastic!_

“It was like any other evening,” her voice was calm, seemingly unaffected by his mocking tone.

He came to the point, unable to bear the agony any longer. “Did you go out for a walk with him?”

“Him?” she gave him a blank look at first, but later seemed to realize who he was talking about. “I didn’t go anywhere with him.”

“Has he asked you out to the city tomorrow? Did he try to get close to you?” Jaime went on, his jealousy blinding him so much that he didn’t even bothering listening to her.

“I said, I didn’t go with him,” Brienne still didn’t lose her cool. “Nor am I meeting him anytime later. I told you, I have no interest in him.”

“Right,” he lowered his tone immediately, somewhat guilty of his impulsive reaction. “I was only concerned because of the reasons we discussed earlier.” Now that this was settled, it was time to bring up the second matter that had been troubling him. “Did Pycelle examine you today?”

“He did.”

“Did he--” he swallowed, wondering how to put it. “--touch you inappropriately?”

“You really think he would dare try anything like that with me?”

Jaime was upset by her dismissal of his heartfelt concern. “You’re hurt, I was worried that he might--”

“He’s just an old man, what can he do? Don’t worry, I am capable of taking care of myself,” she gave him a reassuring smile. “I really do appreciate your concern, though.”

_I’m more than just concerned, wench._

+++++

The next morning, Jaime was surprised that Brienne had suddenly turned up to watch him train. He was, no doubt, elated to see her again since he had just met her once over the last few days, but deep down there was this inherent fear in his mind that he might end up crossing a line if he ever saw her again. _A line he wished he could cross, a line he knew he couldn’t cross_... He couldn’t betray Cersei. He had resolved to staying away from Brienne for this very reason, and her unannounced presence today left him highly unsettled.

“Brienne!” Distracted for just a moment, Jaime found himself sprawled on his back the next instant, Bronn’s sword at his throat.

“Beaten,” Bronn clutched his chest, trying to catch his breath. “Once again, without much effort.”

“I was distracted,” Jaime grumbled, stumbling to his feet. For the first time in weeks, he had an upper edge and he had blown away a golden chance, all because the wench had decided to show up without warning. His attention was once again diverted by the sight of a couple of other people at a distance. Tyrion, accompanied by Oberyn Martell was walking down the stairs.

“What brings you here, little brother?” Jaime asked, gritting his teeth, the disapproval in his voice evident. “I see that you have brought company.”

Before Tyrion could answer, Prince Oberyn gracefully bowed to Brienne, his golden robes shining in the rays of the morning sun. “I’ve heard a lot about your skills with a sword, my lady,” he kissed her hand, oozing charm as usual. “I’m no good with a sword, so would you mind sparring with me? I would like to learn some tricks from you.”

“She is not yet fully fit,” Jaime cut in, trying to nip the matter in the bud before it could get out of hand. “So I’m not sure if--”

“I’d love to,” Brienne gave him a radiant smile, grabbing the tourney sword that Jaime held.

The next few minutes were nothing short of a trip to hell for Jaime. Unable to concentrate on the duel or appreciate Brienne’s excellent swordplay, his eyes constantly focussed on how and where Oberyn touched her. Their fingers would have come into contact atleast thrice, or even more than that as far as he counted. He bit back his anger at the countless times Oberyn grabbed her hand in a bid to disarm her. He was at his wits end when the prince wound his arm around Brienne’s waist in an attempt to fling her down. The rest of the fight was a blur, with his mind completely occupied with various imaginary situations ending up with him brutally murdering Oberyn. Unable to watch any longer, he was about to leave for the keep, when the applause around him indicated that the ordeal was finally over. The Dornish prince lay on the ground, overpowered by the wench.

“That was fantastic, my lady,” his silky tone struck Jaime like a poisoned spear.

“Thank you,” Brienne replied, looking abashed at the compliment.

_Why the hell is she blushing?_

“We should leave,” thankfully Tyrion intervened, ushering the prince towards the stairs that marked the entrance to the spot. “My father must be waiting for you.” The two of them left, with Bronn right behind them.

Brienne was about to follow them, when Jaime decided to confront her.

“Wait!”

She stopped, turning to face him.

“What was all that about, Brienne?” In a couple of quick strides he covered the distance between them until he was barely a foot away from her.

“I don’t know what you mean, I should probably be going,” she made her way back, when he caught her arm, pulling her closer.

“Tell me the truth, wench, are you attracted to him?” he whispered, trying to control the jealousy that was simmering inside him.

She took a deep breath, her face reddening. “I already told you--”

“I presume, you were so preoccupied with the fight that you failed to notice how many times he touched you!” he spat, his anger now uncontrollable.

“He did no such thing!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with indignation as she extricated herself from his grip. “It was part of the fight. Having served in Renly’s guard, I’m used to such things. And anyway, how does it matter to you?”

Jaime caught hold of her wrist, taking her by surprise. “Touching you _like this_ was part of the fight?” Throwing his other arm around her waist, he drew her into him until their bodies pressed together, closing the gap between them. “Didn’t he also grab your waist like this? Since when did bodily contact become necessary in a sword fight?” he growled, breathing into her face, his eyes boring into hers in a burning gaze. He took the sword from her and flung it away, bringing her hand to his lips. He began kissing her fingers slowly and seductively, one at a time. “Did he not kiss your hand, wench?”

“Ser Jaime, I...” she stammered, blinking nearly half a dozen times, her blush deepening and her breathing getting heavier by the second.

“Tell me, wench,” releasing her wrist, he wound his arm around her neck. His fingers gently caressing the nape of her neck, he jerked her head towards him until her face was inches away from his, his lips almost touching hers. “Where else did he touch you?” He felt her shiver against him as slid his fingers down her back and further down to her waist, giving it a light squeeze.

Brienne still made no attempt to move or pull away from him. “He didn’t--”

“Hate to interrupt you,” Bronn’s voice drifted down the stairs. “But your brother’s waiting.”

Jaime hastily released her, forcing himself back to reality. “I’m sorry, Brienne, I shouldn’t have...that was highly inappropriate.” He was annoyed with himself that he got carried away with his feelings so easily.

Brienne left wordlessly without sparing him a second glance.

“If it makes you feel any better, he’s gone,” Tyrion tried to make conversation as they made their way back to the castle.

“I don’t care.”

“I noticed how much you _don't_ _care_ ,” Tyrion chuckled. “It’s a shame Bronn had to intervene. I apologize on his behalf for interrupting something so important.”

“Stop doing this, Tyrion,” Jaime shouted, agitated. “Don’t subject me to any more agony than I can bear. I’m already suffering--”

“Stop suffering then! This is your own doing,” his brother’s expression became serious. “Do something about how you feel. You’re the only person who can calm the storm raging inside you.”

“You know, I can’t,” Jaime ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “I almost kissed her now. I feel miserable for what I tried to do. Brienne would never forgive me for this.” He rushed ahead, wanting to avoid any further unsolicited advice his brother so enthusiastically gave out.

+++++

They had just finished dinner, and the three Lannisters were the only ones left at the table. Much to Jaime’s surprise, the celebration dinner had been mostly peaceful, with Cersei making no mention of Brienne. She had been overly courteous to him, blissfully unaware of everything that had transpired between Brienne and him.

“Cersei, you look splendid tonight,” Tyrion raised his glass, throwing his sister a mocking smile. “As lovely as the hideous old hag I dreamed of last night.”

“Your criticism simply bounces off me, Tyrion,” she said smoothly. “Save your strength to do something worthwhile with your pointless life. At times I wonder, why do you even exist?”

“Stop acting like children, you two,” Jaime decided to intervene, unable to stand it anymore. This had been going on for the past half an hour and the more drunk his siblings got, the nastier they became with each other. While he was glad that his sister had left Brienne out of the conversation, her behaviour with Tyrion was beginning to get on his nerves.

“The only child here is our little brother,” Cersei looked at Tyrion as if he were a speck of dust on her shoe. “He’s the one who started it. He never grew up, neither mentally nor in height. Father should have had him killed the day he was born--”

“Cersei, that’s enough, stop treating him like shit--”

“Taking his side, are you?” she turned her wrath on Jaime now. “You’ve changed. Something’s wrong with you since that ugly cow brought you home--”

Jaime was livid. “Don’t drag Brienne into this, she’s not even in the picture!”

“So it’s everyone else against me, isn’t it?” she let out a mirthless laugh. “A man is known by the company he keeps, and going by yours--” she threw Tyrion a dirty look, and then glared at Brienne who was chatting with Margaery a little distance away. “No wonder, you lost your hand, you’ve become utterly useless.”

“I’ve had enough of you both,” Jaime slammed down his glass, spilling most of its contents on the pristine tablecloth. “Feel free to keep fighting.” Not wishing to see either of their faces for the rest of the night, he headed back to his chambers, wanting some solitude, desperately seeking some peace of mind which managed to elude him for the past few days.

He changed out of his Kingsguard uniform and dragged himself to bed reluctantly, staring at the ceiling. Sleep often evaded him these days, and it was a punishment to lie in bed for hours, left alone with nothing but his thoughts. Cersei’s remark about his worthlessness had stung a bit, but it was her criticism about Brienne that stabbed him in the heart. Despite trying his level best to resist, Brienne had become an important part of his life, a piece of him so inseparable, that it was now beginning to alarm him.

Unable to sleep, he got off the bed and sat down with a bottle of wine. Pouring himself a glass, he sipped slowly, letting the alcohol take control of him, wishing that he could get the wench out of his head. Several drinks later, a loud knock on the door startled him out of his reverie. Opening the door, he broke into a wide grin as soon as he saw who it was.

“Brienneeee,” he drawled, pulling her in and kicking the door shut. “What brings you here, wench, at this hour of the night? Don’t you know, people will talk? Tongues will wag, if anyone sees you here!”

“Are you drunk?” she asked, peering closely into his eyes. “Lord Tyrion just told me that you wanted to speak to me urgently. Maybe this is not the right time for me to be here--”

“Not exactly drunk,” he racked his brains to try and remember if he had indeed told Tyrion that he wanted to see Brienne. Or, was it one of his brother’s tricks to get her to him? “I just had a couple of glasses, maybe a little more…”

“What is it that you wanted to see me for?” she took a tentative step towards him. “If you don’t feel like it, I can come back later.”

“I’ll never not feel like seeing you, wench,” he struggled to articulate every word, thinking if what he had just said even made sense. “Come on in, sit with me and have a drink.”

“I don’t think I should,” she hesitated, her eyes darting towards the door. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Please don’t deny me the pleasure of your company,” he requested, realizing that he desired her presence more than anything else. “Nothing would make me happier than having you here for a while.” Leading her to the table, he pulled out one of the chairs for her and poured her a glass. He sat down next to her, staring at the table, wondering what to say next.

“Tell me,” she asked, taking a sip. “What am I here for?”

“I’m afraid, I’ve forgotten,” he furrowed his brows, making a genuine effort to recollect. “All I remember is Cersei calling me useless. Worse still, she called you an ugly cow.”

Hearing this, Brienne downed her drink in one go. “I don’t think we should be discussing your sister, Ser Jaime.”

He re-filled her empty glass without bothering to ask if she wanted more. “Maybe she’s right about me,” he got to his feet, holding on to the back of her chair for support. “I really am useless. I’m not fit to be the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. How can I protect the king when I can’t defend myself against a tourney sword?”

“You’re being too hard on yourself--”

“You’re lying, you’re just saying this because you feel sorry for me,” he snapped, his sense of self pity now replaced by anger and frustration with his helplessness. “I really am a worthless father, a good for nothing uncle, and an awful bodyguard. My father feels I’m no good, and so does my sister. I’m sure the entire kingdom feels I’m a burden--”

“I don’t think of you as worthless or useless,” she got up, placing a soothing hand on his arm. She sounded normal, though she was almost as drunk as him, her level of sobriety only as much as his. Despite his intoxication, Jaime was painfully aware of her proximity, his pulse racing as she came closer. Someone had put her in a dress tonight, and he was sure that even if he were sober he would’ve thought it looked good on her.

“This dress,” emboldened by the alcohol in his blood, he decided to speak his mind. “It suits you, wench.”

“I thought you stopped mocking me,” she dropped her hand, looking hurt. “You promised me that night--”

“I’m not mocking, Brienne,” his voice was huskier than usual and he took another step towards her. “I mean it. I stopped teasing you long back. Mockery is the last thing on my mind now.”

Blushing a lovely shade of pink, she stared at the ground. The air between them was so full of tension, that he could feel his heart pounding against his chest despite his inebriated state. “Ser Jaime, I should probably leave.” She turned to the door when he caught her hand. Momentarily stunned, she froze in her tracks. Without thinking about what he was doing, he grabbed her waist and pulled her into his arms. Before he could stop himself, his lips were on hers and he began kissing her passionately.

_Let go of her!_

While the gods only knew what had come over him, he continued kissing her, relishing the newfound sensation of her soft, yet chapped lips, pliant under his. He wanted to go on further, wishing nothing more than to taste her tongue, to explore her mouth, to delve deeper into her--

_STOP!_

His inner voice eventually prevailed, and Jaime let go of her as abruptly as he had kissed her. Unable to face her for a few seconds, he looked away, searching for words suitable enough to explain his impulsive blunder. Finally, summoning the courage to look her in the eye and apologize for his brazen behaviour, he was about to blurt out that he was sorry for his inappropriate--

“Ser Jaime,” she whispered breathlessly. There was something in her tone, in the way she said his name that made him stop wanting to justify himself or apologize for his actions anymore. Her gaze was fiery, but it was not rage or disgust that he saw. Her hunger and ache for him was as blatantly visible as could be in her expressive eyes. She was a sight to behold, her cheeks a bright ruby red and her lips freshly kissed, begging for more. Common sense told him that if she had found his advances objectionable or undesirable, he wouldn’t be standing there in one piece, his limbs still intact.

She wanted him as much as he desired her!

Brienne seemed to have read his mind, for she dropped her gaze to his mouth, biting her lip shyly. That was more than enough for Jaime. Pushing her roughly, he pinned her against the door and kissed her again, crushing her lips with his, unable to control his aggression this time. She closed her eyes, surrendering to him, succumbing to his desire as she threw her arms around his neck pulling him closer. Throwing all caution and sense out of the window, Jaime immersed himself in her sweet lips, wanting nothing more than to take her on this exhilarating journey that she had never experienced before.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For every action, there are consequences to be faced, complications to be dealt with.

Brienne kissed him back in her own adorably clumsy way, her inexperienced mouth only making Jaime want her even more. Aroused by her response, he craved to explore the depths of her mouth, and soon enough, his tongue was in her mouth, desperate to taste her and feel every bit of her. His hand dropped down to her chest and he cupped her breast over the thin lacy fabric covering it, giving it a light squeeze. She shuddered at his touch, an indecent moan escaping her lips. Her reaction made him harder, his cock pushing against her groin, twitching in anticipation of what was to come. “Oh, Jaime,” she sighed into his mouth, melting into his arms while her fingers wreaked havoc with his hair.

 _Jaime, not Ser Jaime._ Quick to notice the change, Jaime kissed her harder, unintentionally biting her lip in a fit of passion. “I’m sorry, wench,” he murmured apologetically when she let out a little cry. Struck by a pang of guilt, he withdrew when he tasted blood, worried that he had hurt her. He had probably gone a bit too far, and there was no doubt that they would both regret this in the morning. For a second his sobriety took over and he stepped away from her, determined to put an end to this impulsive surge of drunken lust. It was his responsibility to make sure she was safely back in her chambers before they could attract unwanted attention.

“Don’t be,” she said huskily, pulling him back into her arms. Sliding her hands down to his waist, she undid his robe, divesting him of it as quickly as she could, her eyes widening as her gaze dropped to his groin. Her hand shaking, she placed her palm on his chest, gently stroking the hair on it as she began kissing his collar bone. Planting a trail of kisses along his neck and chest, she moved down to his stomach and further to his--

_This is insane! What the hell are we doing? She’s a virgin. This can’t go any further. This is stupid and it’s dangerous._

He pushed her away roughly. “Brienne, we shouldn’t be doing this. We’ve had too much to drink. I’m not even sure if this is what you want--”

“You,” was all she could manage, her breathing becoming heavier as slowly looked up at him, her eyes filled with lust, her eyelids half shut. “I want you, Jaime.”

Given his own pathetically vulnerable state, combined with his already cracked wall of restraint which was in the process of slowly crumbling to pieces, Jaime needed to hear no more. Capturing her lips again, he spread her legs apart, sliding his hand between her thighs. _Gods, she’s so wet. For me._ That realization, and the anticipation of fucking her made him so painfully erect, that it was nothing short of agony. He fucked her hard with his fingers, and she came apart in his arms within moments, his name on her lips punctuated by gasps and moans. He held her sweaty body, savouring her pleasant weight against him, wanting nothing more than to get rid of the gown which had now stuck to her, drenched in sweat and transparent as she breathed heavily, her chest heaving against his.

It took them a great deal of effort to make it to the bed, their inability to keep their lips and hands off each other along with their instability due to their high level of alcohol intake posing a major hindrance to even basic movement. When they finally succeeded, he shoved her on the bed and flung himself on top of her, hastily fumbling with the annoying dress to get it off her. Soon, she lay bare under him, her pale skin delightfully flushed at his touch. She looked at him with half-open eyes, and he could feel her heart thundering, waiting for what he was about to do to her.

He bent down to kiss her again, when they were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Their eyes met as they exchanged a quick look of apprehension.

But Jaime decided not to care. “Ignore them,” he growled, determined not to allow anyone or anything to disturb them tonight, all the fucking consequences be damned. He pressed his lips to hers, while his hand sought her breast again, caressing it and playing with her nipple causing her to whimper and squirm uncontrollably under him. Unable to contain himself any longer, he thrust hard, yearning to pleasure her, while aching to find a release from this sweet torture himself. Obviously unaware of what to expect, Brienne winced in pain, surprised by the strange feeling of taking him inside her. Jaime was slightly ashamed, in his heady state, he had overlooked the fact that she was a virgin. He had forgotten that he had to be careful and gentle with her the first time.

However, any thoughts he had of apologizing to her flew out of his mind as soon as he saw the look of pure, unadulterated bliss on her face. She shifted her hips to adjust to him, her gasps and moans getting louder and more desperate as he continued pounding into her, gradually increasing the intensity of his thrusts. She got so loud at one point, that he had to kiss her mouth shut, fearing that they might be audible outside. A few quick thrusts later, she found her release, her body shaking violently in his arms. He followed shortly, his climax peaking to such an extent that he had to fight hard not to scream her name out aloud. He collapsed in her arms, sweaty and exhausted, wanting the night to never come to an end.

+++++

It was still dark outside when Jaime opened his eyes. How long had he been asleep? His head felt like hell, as if a hundred hammers had been pounding on it simultaneously. It had been ages since he had got this drunk, and whenever he did, it had never ended well. It was only when he strained his mind to recollect what he had done last night, that his attention was drawn to the soft warm body curled up in his arms. With a jolt, he happened to realize that he was naked… and so was she. Everything soon came back to him in short bursts, and the last thing he remembered before drifting off was the taste of Brienne’s sweet lips. He had kissed her! But after that, he had--

 _Seven hells, no! Please, please, this didn’t happen!_ He extricated himself from her arms and sat up, his head heavier than it had been when he had awoken.

“Brienne,” he called out softly, scared to touch her. His heart filled with dread as he pictured her reaction when she found herself in his bed.

_Had they really…?_

He never actually got a chance to search his brain for a suitable explanation, as Brienne immediately got up with a start. She clutched her head for a few seconds, trying to come to terms with her surroundings. “What the hell am I doing here?”she looked at him, shocked. As the recollection of everything that had transpired between them last night slowly dawned on her, she reddened and moved away from him, hastily covering herself with the bedsheet.

“Ser Jaime…I don’t really know what to say...” she averted her eyes, her voice shaking.

 _So, it’s back to Ser Jaime again._ All the memories came back in full swing now, and he could vividly visualize every second of the wonderful mistake they had made last night.

“Brienne, I’m sorry,” Jaime didn’t know what else to tell her, how to explain. “Whatever happened… shouldn’t have happened. It was never my intention to… Please forgive me, if you can.” He looked down, worried if he could ever face her again.

“You’re not entirely to blame, it was me...” she blushed profusely. “I have been equal party to it.” Finding her gown at the foot of the bed, she quickly got dressed, while he turned away to give her some privacy.

“I should have exercised more restraint, should not have allowed myself to--” he stepped off the bed and went to pick up the robe he had discarded last night. Decently covered at last, he mustered the courage to sit down next to her. What was he to tell her? _Sorry to have ripped you off your maidenhood so crudely?_ “I can never forgive myself for this, Brienne, and I presume you wouldn’t be able to forgive me either. It was a big mistake, a terrible drunken blunder.”

Brienne turned to him, her eyes sad and full of hurt. “You’re right, Ser Jaime,” she was almost on the verge of tears. “It was indeed a mistake, a mistake I can never forget all my life.” She rose, hurriedly making her way to the door.

 _Did I say something wrong?_ “Brienne, wait, listen to me…” He ran after her, but before he could stop her, she rushed away, slamming the door on his face, leaving him alone and guilt ridden.

Jaime went back to the bed, and as he straightened the sheets, a few spots of blood here and there caught his eye. He sat down in despair, rubbing his eyes wearily. He didn’t even notice the daylight pouring through the window as he stayed there for hours, cursing himself for ruining the only genuinely selfless relationship he had managed to develop in all the forty years of his life.

A loud bang on the door jolted him back to his senses. “You look awful,” Tyrion observed, pushing past his brother to enter. “Too much to drink?”

“Why have you come here?” Jaime was suddenly furious at the sight of his brother. Tyrion was the root cause of all these complications, none of this would have happened, had it not been for his intervention.

“I came to see if you were alright. I was worried after the way you left dinner mid-way,” Tyrion paused, trying to catch his eye. “You look upset. Why?”

“Is there anything else left to happen?” Jaime sank into the bed again, hanging his head in shame. “Stop pretending that you know nothing!”

“I really don’t know, Jaime,” Tyrion said gently, seating himself next to him. “Did you have an argument with Brienne last night?”

“Worse than an argument,” Jaime shook his head in frustration. “I…” He didn’t know how to tell his brother.

Tyrion gave a look of comprehension as soon as he spotted the blood stains on the bed. A wide grin spread across his face. “So you finally--”

“Yes, I fucked her!” Jaime thundered, unable to hold back his anger and frustration any more. “Is that what you wanted to hear? All it took, was a night of drunken sex for me to rob Brienne of her maidenhood. I feel miserable for doing this to her.”

“Why do you feel like that?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Tyrion?” The stupidity of the question irritated Jaime even more. “She’s a high born lady, a maiden before I defiled her and took her honour. I ended up doing the very thing I protected her against at Harrenhal.” He rubbed his aching eyes. “What’s the bloody difference between a lust-driven savage like Locke and me?”

“You don’t need me to tell you that, do you?” Tyrion pointed out quietly. “You _love_ Brienne. You both wanted this, whereas Locke forced himself on her. Even attempting to compare to yourself to Locke, or whatever happened between you two to anything that Locke attempted would be preposterous.”

“I don’t lo--”

“Oh, stop it, Jaime, for fuck’s sake!” Tyrion cried out, exasperated. “I’ve had enough of your ' _I don’t love her'_ shit. For a change, why don’t you be man enough to accept how you feel!”

“None of this would’ve happened had it not been for your unsolicited matchmaking efforts.” Glad to find a scapegoat, Jaime diverted the blame on him, wanting to evade the perfectly accurate point that Tyrion was trying to make.

“Don’t blame it on me,” his brother shook his head, smirking. “I saw the way you reacted yesterday. I was watching the fight as well, and I found nothing wrong with what Oberyn did. You were literally burning inside when he barely even touched her. As a wise man once said, jealousy brings out the true feelings of the heart. That was that trigger for your--”

“I did not--”

Tyrion didn’t allow him to speak. “The way you were going, you would have taken her then and there had it not been for Bronn’s ill timing--”

“I--” Jaime opened his mouth to argue, but Tyrion would have none of it.

“Don’t deny it, Jaime, and stop calling last night a drunken mistake.”

Jaime hated to admit it to himself, but his brother did indeed turn out to be an accurate judge of people and emotions.

“What did you tell her?” Tyrion eyed him doubtfully. “Before she left this morning?”

“I said, I was sorry, and that it was a blunder--”

“What?” Tyrion looked at him incredulously. “You know, Cersei was right about you, you really are useless.” When Jaime stared at him blankly, he went on to elaborate. “You get intimate with the woman of your dreams and the morning after, you tell her that you regret it and that it was a _mistake_?”

“Well, I…” he hesitated, slowly beginning to see the point in his brother’s logic.

“Were you the one to initiate it, or…?”

Now that his brother knew so much, Jaime decided to tell him the truth. “I did, atleast the kiss, but when it threatened to go beyond that, I thought it would be wiser to stop there. But she wanted to--” he froze, only now the full impact of what Tyrion was trying to highlight hitting him. He really had been insensitive and tactless that morning.

“I hate to say this again, but you’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever known,” Tyrion sounded extremely disappointed. “She wanted you, you wanted her badly as well, and you both gave in to your desires. But the first thing you told her the next morning was that it was a big mistake? Can you imagine what she might have gone through after hearing that? You’ve made her feel--” Tyrion shook his head in disgust.

Jaime knew exactly how he had made her feel. “I didn’t think of it like that,” he mumbled.

“She might have felt the mistake was entirely hers,” Tyrion went on, his tone still accusatory. “You made her feel that all you did was give in to her desires and nothing more, when the truth is far from it.”

“That was not what I meant at all. I felt guilty about taking her virginity the way I did, and that was what I was trying to apologize for. She deserved a better first time,” he sighed, at once a mental image of him marrying Brienne distracting him. He had fantasised about taking her maidenhead numerous times, but a drunken fuck was not the way he had ever imagined it to be. “I have to talk to her right now.” He got up abruptly, having made up his mind about what he was going to tell her.

“Don’t make her feel worse than she already does,” Tyrion warned him.

“I know what to do, Tyrion,” he snapped at his brother without reason. “Please don’t advise me anymore.”

“I won’t,” Tyrion called out as he left. “As long as you make sure that you don’t hurt her.”

His brother’s words had acted as an eye-opener for Jaime, making him see things in a new light. Taking a deep breath, he brought out a fresh set of clothes. He had to meet Brienne right away. He had wasted enough time fighting his internal battles, but not anymore. _I’m not going to hurt her_ , he said to himself, a broad smile spreading across his face as he bathed and dressed. Now that he had stopped fighting his feelings, his heart felt lighter than it ever had before. His wench was all that occupied his mind these days. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, couldn’t imagine life without her…he gazed at the ceiling dreamily as he remembered the taste of her lips on his and the warmth of her body against his.

Last night was a mistake, no doubt, but the most beautiful mistake he had ever made, one that he would remember all his life.

As he thought about it deeply, Jaime’s face fell, his smile vanishing as rapidly as it had appeared, a doubt creeping into his mind. _I don’t know what she feels about me after last night. I don’t even know if she still loves me. She has her vows, and I have my responsibilities towards Cersei and my children._ Pushing aside such disturbing thoughts, he resolved to deal with one problem at a time. For now, he had to focus on clearing the awful misunderstanding that he had planted in Brienne’s head, he had to tell her how he felt about her. Feeling dizzy at the prospect, he took a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves so that he could gather the courage to meet her. Never before had he been this jittery about anything.

Just as he opened the door, he bumped into the last person he wished to see at that moment. “Where are you off to this early?” Cersei sauntered past him, shutting the door behind her. “You were missing at breakfast.”

“I overslept,” he lied, thinking quickly. “I was on my way to meet you now.”

“Overslept?” she raised her brows suspiciously.

“Yes, I was awake for most of last night, almost until daybreak,” he continued with his made up story. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is it?” she glared at him. “Not that it is any of my business, but were you really awake last night? I had sent a man to fetch you after you walked out on me, but you didn’t seem to have responded. I presumed you were asleep, though, if you were awake as you claim, why didn’t you answer the door?”

Jaime’s blood turned cold when he remembered the knock on the door. “I don’t really remember...I might have dozed off for a while, I was drunk and not in control of my senses--”

“Stop lying to me, Jaime!” The look she gave him was pure venom. “I know you were awake, and I know that _she_ was in here with you all night.”

Jaime was speechless, his sharp tongue and his ability to spin a yarn letting him down for a change.

Cersei once again came straight to the point. “Did you fuck her?” Her eyes now reminded him of wildfire rather than the beautiful green pools he usually loved to drown himself in.

“Answer me, Jaime,” she insisted, when he neither acknowledged nor refuted her claim. Her frown deepened. “You did, didn’t you? That awful glow on your face reveals it all!” Her silky voice failed to mask the rage and jealousy that was building up inside her.

 _I love her,_ Jaime wanted to say, unwilling to answer her question directly. He didn’t want to dismiss what happened last night as merely _fucking._

She helped herself to a glass of wine from the bottle that was still lying on the table. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Pouring out another glass, she handed it to him.

He slammed the glass on the table, sick of her interrogation. “I don’t have to cite reasons for everything I do, Cersei.” He was tired of answering her, wary of justifying every move and every damn thing he did. It was now his turn to do the asking. “How did you find out, if I may ask? Were you spying on me?”

“I know about every little thing that happens in this castle, Jaime. Not even a leaf moves without my knowledge.” She made her way to the bed and sat down, looking at the stained sheet in disgust. “Do you think I don’t know what happened last week?”

“Was that you who locked me in with her?” Jaime stared at her in disbelief.

“Why the fuck would I do that? I can’t stand that woman, and to have her spend the night with my brother would be the last thing...” she said sourly. “No, it wasn’t me, I don’t even know who did it. I have my own suspicion that it could be Qyburn, though why he did it is beyond my comprehension. All I can tell you, is that a certain maid had to be tortured to spill out everything she had seen.”

_What vested interest could Qyburn have in this? Unless…_

“Were you the one who sent Qyburn? You tried to get killed Brienne that night--”

“Were you even paying attention to what I said?” she spat. “I didn’t order anyone to kill her. I didn’t want to... until now.”

Jaime clenched his fist, controlling himself to avoid raising his hand on her. “You lay one finger on her and I--”

“What can you do?” She got up, moving closer to him, her voice now as sweet as honey. “You are practically powerless, brother, a once-formidable lion with its claws now hacked off, incapable of hunting, worthless of everything. Our father considers you no good. The king has no regard for you, nor do your own men. All it would take is one word from Joffrey to completely break you. Would you go against your family for an ugly wench like her?”

“I would,” he admitted, ignoring the insults targeted at him. “I would do everything in my power to keep her safe--”

“In that case, today is your lucky day,” she smiled, continuing to sip her wine. “I have a proposal for you.”

“What are you trying to imply?”

“I had come here sometime back, determined to have that Tarth bitch killed--” Furious, Jaime took a step towards her, but she held a retraining hand to his chest. “Calm down and hear me out, it’s for your own good.”

“I’m ready to let her live, allow her to leave King’s Landing immediately to go wherever she wants to--”

“What do you want in return?” Jaime demanded, knowing his sister too well. With Cersei, everything came for a price.

“Nothing much,” she whispered in his ear, running a finger down his cheek. “My brother’s unwavering and undying loyalty, if that’s not too much to ask for. From this minute, you will get her out of your head, and this castle, and never see her again. Make immediate arrangements to see to it that she leaves King’s Landing at the earliest. I don’t want her anywhere near our lives again.”

“If I don’t follow your orders?” He couldn’t help asking, despite dreading the answer.

“She dies,” Cersei replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Isn’t loyalty to your family a small price to pay for her life? The farther you stay from her, the safer she is.”

“You can’t get away with this,” Jaime gritted his teeth. “I’ll go and speak to father, I’ll seek his judgement, I’m sure he will--”

“Father?” she laughed mockingly. “What do you think he’ll say? That woman was sworn to Catelyn Stark, one of our biggest enemies. So what would father do if he had to choose between her and me? If you still doubt it, you’re free to try talking to him, though I would advise against it.”

She was right. Brienne was stuck in enemy territory, surrounded by Lannisters. His family would never try to understand her, they would never look at her the way he did.

“If I were you, for her own good I’d make sure she leaves as early as she can. A unmarried high-born lady losing her virginity to a man who’s not her husband soon becomes the talk of the town.” She rose, making her way to the door. “ _The Kingslayer’s whore_ , they’ve started calling her already. I heard the maids whisper as I came here.”

_And that’s because of me… I’ve ensured her reputation is ruined!_

“Think about it, Jaime, and--” she threw him another smile “--I’m looking forward to lunch with you.”

Lunch was a mere formality and Jaime sat in a corner, brooding, unable to concentrate on his food. Unfortunately for him, the decision was heartbreakingly easy. It was her life against a life with her, and there really was no choice! Finally, the only one remaining at the table, he was all set to abandon his meal and get away from there, when Tyrion took the seat next to him.

“Did you speak to her?” he asked, gesturing to Brienne who had been consciously avoiding Jaime the entire time.

“No,” Jaime said flatly. “But I will, soon. I’ve decided to send her away. She is free to go wherever she wants.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Tyrion looked at him in disbelief. “What the hell happened to everything we spoke about?”

“I was right and you were wrong, I don’t want to be involved with her. Last night was indeed a terrible mistake, and I hope she forgives me for it,” Jaime fought hard to quell the anguish that was threatening to tear him apart from inside. “I’m going to tell her this at the earliest available opportunity, and keep away from her for the rest of my life.”

He left the table, leaving a stunned Tyrion staring after him open-mouthed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have gone a bit overboard with the...ahem...first part of the chapter (not that I regret it), while writing the end really broke my heart :(  
> But things will be fine, JB will be fine ;)
> 
> EDIT : 5 more chapters after this, updated the tag so that you have an idea of how much more to expect.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime continues to battle his feelings, while Brienne decides to leave with Sansa.

Nothing was going right for Jaime lately, and the gods seemed to be frowning upon him increasingly day by day. As if Cersei’s threat was not enough, he now had to put up with his brother’s reprimand. “Don’t criticize me for what I did, I had no choice but to behave coldly with her,” he lamented. He had ended up recounting his exchange with Cersei when his brother had confronted him about his indifference to Brienne. Already heartbroken, Tyrion’s accusation only added to his misery.

“I’m not surprised,” Tyrion shook his head, his voice full of contempt for his sister. “But I feel you shouldn’t let Brienne leave.”

“What exactly do you expect me to do? If I don’t obey Cersei, she would go to any extent to inflict pain on Brienne.” Jaime was burning inside, his helplessness slowly eating him bit by bit. “To add insult to injury, these fucking gossip mongers are out to spoil her name.” Since his return home, and more so after that fateful night, the nasty stories linking him with Brienne had spread far and wide, and all he could do about them was clench his fist in anger.

“They’re just rumours, Jaime.” Tyrion touched his arm gently. “Try to ignore--”

“Ignore? They’re rumours, no doubt, but backed by solid facts!” Jaime shouted. “How can I just stand quietly and watch her get insulted? Do you know what they call her these days? The Kingslayer’s whore--” he paused, fuming at the thought of Brienne being labelled a whore. “I was equally responsible for what happened that night, so why only call her a whore? My bloody honour is beyond repair, and I don’t care what they think about me, but her character is untainted-pure and blemishless. I can’t allow her to bear the consequences for something that wasn’t her fault alone.”

“They call her your whore...” Tyrion scratched his chin, pondering the words carefully. “So why don’t you change that then?”

Jaime was confused. “What do you mean?”

“It’s simple.” Tyrion smiled. “Make her your wife, brother.”

Jaime opened his mouth to object, but Tyrion went on. “Do you love her?” Before Jaime could respond, he cut in impatiently. “Try to be honest this time, brother.”

“Yes, I do.” Jaime found himself smiling, a pleasant warmth flooding him like never before. “More than my life.”

“Do you want to marry her?” Tyrion’s intelligent green eyes studied him carefully.

Jaime’s smile widened. “More than anything else,” he admitted, in all earnestness. “If she would have me.”

“Then speak to father,” Tyrion suggested. “Tell him how you feel about her, tell him how Cersei has been blackmailing you. Father wants his heirs, and we know he has never approved of you and Cersei. Nothing would satisfy him more than the news that than his son wants to settle down. Brienne is perfect for you in every way, and I have no doubt he would gladly consent to this match.” Tyrion looked away abruptly, his expression unreadable. “For a change, our family would celebrate a union that would be an outcome of mutual love and acceptance... unlike mine.” Was he feeling guilty because Sansa’s life was ruined due to their forced marriage?

Jaime’s heart sank again when he remembered that his last conversation with the wench had been anything but friendly. “I’m sure Brienne hates me for the way I’ve treated her. She--”

“--doesn’t hate you,” Tyrion asserted. “You can trust me on that. First let’s find a way out of the mess our dear sister has created, and then you can woo your lady back.”

Jaime was still doubtful about how Brienne felt about him. Even if Tywin agreed to the match, she valued her self-respect. Would she consent to marrying him?

“You’ve hurt her by implying it meant nothing, brother,” Tyrion said, correctly reading his dilemma. “She’s angry and upset with you. What else do you expect from her? Seek father’s consent, and ask her for her hand in marriage. Show her that you love her.”

It wasn’t a bad idea, and well worth a try. The only thing that might possibly get in the way would be her vow, but he could keep his word and make sure Sansa got back to her brother. That would rid Tyrion of his guilt as well.

“Follow your heart, Jaime.” Tyrion gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and left with a parting nod.

Not wanting to waste any further time, Jaime bolted out of there. He had to speak to Tywin before Brienne could do anything irrevocable or drastic. Reaching the Tower of the Hand, he knocked on his father’s door, his heart pounding desperately.

“Enter,” Tywin Lannister’s voice boomed, his tone as commanding as ever.

His father was at his desk, pouring over a map that was spread open on the table. “I need to have a word with you, father.” His tone automatically assumed an edge of politeness and humility. Even today, at forty, standing in front of his father made him feel like a lad of ten rather than the mighty Kingslayer.

“Why else would you be here?” Tywin didn’t look up, his eyes still on the map. “What is it?”

Jaime nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I want to get married,” he confessed, deciding it was wise to come directly to the point.

Tywin looked at his son, dumbfounded and absolutely speechless. Getting up from his chair, he approached Jaime. “What was that again?” he managed, after a few seconds of deafening silence.

“I wish to get married and fulfil my responsibility as your son and heir,” Jaime repeated, his face and neck growing hot.

“Do my ears deceive me?” Tywin fixed him with a stare that made him squirm uncomfortably. “And, to what do we owe this newfound enlightenment?”

“I’ve fallen in love.” Blushing like a young squire, Jaime now focussed his attention on his father’s feet.

“Really?” Tywin didn’t seem to believe him. “Who might the lucky lady be?”

“Brienne of Tarth,” he uttered the name with pride, looking his father in the eye for the first time that evening.

After another few seconds of deathly silence had passed, Tywin finally found his tongue. “You know who she is, don’t you?” he thundered, once he had recovered from the shock. “She’s sworn to the Starks.”

“I know that.” Jaime didn’t disagree with his father, but went on to tell him about Cersei’s threat.

Even after listening to the entire story, Tywin’s expression was that of disapproval. “Despite knowing that she’s our enemy, you want to bring her into this family--”

“But father, she has nothing against us.” He carefully avoided mentioning Brienne’s plan for Sansa.

Tywin walked back to his desk in silence. “Very well,” he conceded, taking his seat again. “I am ready to give you my consent--”

Jaime was elated. “Thank you--”

“--on one condition,” his father had not finished yet. “I have news from Roose Bolton that the Tarth girl is bent upon taking Sansa back to her family. I’ve been keeping a close eye on her, and her growing friendship with Sansa has made me quite uncomfortable.”

Jaime’s heart sank as he had not anticipated this.

“Why don’t we work out a compromise for everyone’s benefit?” Tywin suggested. “You will marry this woman and take her to Casterly Rock at once, and I will talk Cersei out of her childishness. Lady Brienne will be safe, provided she promises to let Sansa be. I cannot allow the daughter-in-law of this house to--”

“But, father,” Jaime interjected, perturbed by the unexpected turn of this conversation. “Sansa isn’t happy with this marriage, nor is Tyrion. He’s been suffering from the constant guilt that her life has been spoilt because of him. It is a loveless and an unhealthy relationship.”

“Their happiness was not my intention,” Tywin dismissed his argument. “I cannot allow Sansa out of King’s Landing and that is my final decision. You can marry your lady if you promise to talk her out of her ridiculous vow. If you do that, everyone can be safe and happy. If you don’t, Brienne of Tarth can get the hell out of here.”

“But--”

“You say you love her, son,” Tywin’s tone softened. “Assuming she loves you too, can’t she give up a vow for you? Convince her that Sansa is safe with us.” Putting the map aside, he leaned forward, smiling. “Think about it, a life with the woman you love, ruling as my son and heir. Could it get any better for you?”

When Jaime was silent, his father pressed further. “After Joffrey’s wedding tomorrow, we can discuss further plans. If you agree to my terms, you will wed her soon, alongside Cersei and Loras.” Without waiting for an answer, Tywin bent down and began writing something. Once he had finished, he handed it to Jaime. “Here’s the royal decree to relieve you from the Kingsguard. I’ll get it signed by the King immediately. Once you’ve made up your mind, it can be put into action.”

“I need some time to decide, father.”

Jaime took leave of Tywin feeling worse than before. Knowing his father, he should have expected some ugly twist like this. When had Tywin Lannister ever done anything for anyone's happiness? Tempting though his father’s offer was, once again, for Jaime, the decision was painfully simple. He loved the wench, but he would never want her to break her vow for his sake. The last thing he wanted was to put her in a dilemma by proposing such a marriage to her. He couldn’t allow her to become an oathbreaker because of his love for her, or his father’s vested interests in their union.

But he could allow himself one last meeting with her before she left… if she agreed to meet him.

While on the way to see her, he ran into Qyburn. “You!” he exclaimed, grabbing the old man’s arm roughly, livid at the sight of him. “You locked me in with Brienne that night.”

Qyburn kept his cool. “I did it to serve the crown, my lord.”

Biting back his rage, Jaime released him, not wanting to make matters any worse for Brienne. “On Cersei’s bidding?”

“No,” he smirked. “It was my plan. I had pledged my undying support to the throne, and your growing relationship with the lady of Tarth has not gone down well with your sister. Lady Brienne is responsible for the gradually increasing rift between you two. Your sister needs you by her side, and the only way to get Lady Brienne away from you was to make your sister jealous of her.”

Jaime glared at him. “I don’t believe you,” he growled. “You almost ended up killing Brienne that night.”

“I apologize, that wasn’t my intention, my lord.” Qyburn said, his expression taking on a wicked edge. “In retrospection, I need not have taken the effort to get her into your bed after all. Even without my intervention, your drunken--”

Jaime was shocked. “How the hell do you know about that?”

“Your lady came to me,” he revealed. “She was worried that she might get pregnant.”

A new fear gripped Jaime’s heart. “W-would she?” This consequence of his drunken irresponsibility had never occurred to him.

“Too soon to tell. But I’ve given her Moon tea immediately, so she should be fine.”

Jaime heaved a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was the added complication of Brienne carrying his child. There was enough she was going through because of him and his family, and he didn’t want anything more to add to it.

“There’s one more reason I went against you. Remember, when Lady Brienne was mortally wounded, you threatened to take my life in spite of my doing whatever I could to tend to her?” The expression on his usually peaceful face was almost menacing now. “I haven’t forgotten, Ser Jaime, I never forget anything...”

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

_A big drunken mistake..._

Never before had Brienne so desperately wanted to get away from Jaime. Two days had passed since that fateful night, but Jaime’s words still rang in her ears. How easily he had dismissed the most beautiful experience of her life as a mistake! Maybe it was a _mistake_ for him, but for her, it was significant. For her, it was the moment she became one with the man she loved.

 _Love_...

Strange was the emotion, indeed! While absolutely certain about her feelings, she had now come to realize the hard way that she had been grossly mistaken about him. The way he had held her that night, the heat in his lips when he had kissed her, the sparks that had flown between them when he touched her… despite her inebriated state, she had been convinced beyond doubt that he loved her. But the next morning turned out to be a slap in the face for her. His shock at finding her in his bed, his aloofness and dismissal of her had proven that he still loved Cersei, and always would. Some things would never change!

Brienne had no option, but to leave immediately. She had considered taking off the very same day, but had held back only because of Sansa. Impulsive decisions usually ended badly, and if she wanted to stick to her objective, she had to plan this properly. Sansa was the only reason she was still here. She couldn’t leave without the girl, and she had not had an opportunity to speak to her since the family had been busy with the preparations for the royal wedding.

“Lady Brienne!” Sansa looked surprised to run into her. Brienne had forgotten that she was at the Godswood, a spot frequented by the girl. “What brings you here… and why are you alone?”

“I… I came for a walk my lady.” Brienne looked down, fiddling with her fingernails.

Sansa was quick to sense that something was amiss. “What troubles you?” She sat down by her side. “I consider you a sister, Lady Brienne, so you could tell me, if you don’t mind. Sharing always helps lighten the burden.”

Before she could stop herself, Brienne found herself pouring her heart out to Sansa.

“There’s no doubt that you love him,” Sansa concluded with a sigh. “I can see it in your eyes. Why then, do you call it a mistake?”

Brienne chose to ignore her first statement. “Those were his words, not mine.”

“From where I stand, my lady, I’m of the firm opinion that he loves you too. Why else would he have kissed you?”

“He was drunk,” Brienne argued, fighting hard to control her tears. “So was I, and we erred that night. He loves no one but his sister, and I do not wish to live under any false notions. I have come to terms with that, my lady, but there is one other thing that has been nagging me ever since--” she hesitated, wondering if she should voice her fear.

“What is it?”

“What if I get pregnant?” she whispered, horrified at the possibility. “I’ve been dreading it since that day.”

“Talk to Qyburn before you jump into conclusions,” Sansa advised her.

“I have,” Brienne mumbled, ashamed at her predicament. “I’ve taken his advice and consumed moon tea.”

“Then there should be nothing to worry about. Stop burdening your mind with it.”

“There is one more thing I wish to discuss with you, my lady,” Brienne decided to broach the subject, hoping for a positive response. “I will be leaving King’s Landing soon--”

“But what about you and Ser Jaime--”

“Whatever there was between us is now over. There’s no place for love in my life.” Brienne had to harden her heart if she wanted to move on with her life. “I swore an oath to your mother, to get you back safely to your family. Come with me, my lady, I will take you to your--”

“I have no family anymore. My place is here, this is my family and these are my people,” Sansa suddenly looked disturbed and dashed away before Brienne could say anything else.

Brienne sat there for a while, staring at the sacred tree, wishing for the gods to show her a way out of her problems.

“Lady Brienne!”

Hearing the voice, her heart skipped a beat. She rose, surprised to see the last person she had been expecting at the Godswood. Tempted as she was to turn him down, or better still, flee from there herself, something inside her made her want to wait and hear him out. What did he want with her? Was there anything left between them worth talking about?

“Ser Jaime,” she acknowledged his greeting, deliberately keeping her tone cold and emotionless. She didn’t want to engage in a conversation with him. She had nothing to say to him, for his presence only added to the anguish that had been simmering inside her.

“My lady, I wish to speak to you.” He looked composed. If there was any inner turmoil, it didn’t show on his face. “I looked for you in the keep, but then realized this is where I might find you.” He sat down next to her, carefully maintaining a safe distance between them.

“I want to leave King’s Landing as soon as I can,” she made her intention clear before he could say anything. “Immediately after the royal wedding, with or without your help. Getting Sansa Stark back to her family is the sole purpose of my life now, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to either succeed or die trying.”

“I understand,” Jaime agreed. “I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you get everything you need…” he paused, his face colouring. “About that night--”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Ser Jaime,” her tone was icy. “I’d rather pretend it never happened. As you rightly said, it was indeed a mistake, one that needs to be forgotten.” _Was it hurt in his eyes?_ She couldn’t fathom, and she didn’t care about what he thought or felt anymore.

“Very well, my lady, I will arrange for Sansa to leave with you as soon as the wedding is over,” he said, his face once again expressionless. “And I won’t speak of what happened between us if that is what you wish.”

“Thank you, Ser Jaime, for everything you’ve done for me. And...” she whispered, ignoring the sound of her heart being ripped to pieces. “Goodbye.”

“I should be the one to thank you, Brienne.” After one last lingering look at her, he left.

_This is it. I’m never going to see him again, never going to hear his voice again..._

She pressed her lips together, blinking back the tears that were threatening to flow. Her fingers clenched in anger and frustration, she sat there for a while, unable to get over him despite her valiant efforts to pretend he meant nothing to her. She continued battling her heart, fighting her feelings, for that seemed to be the only way to prevent herself from succumbing to her despair.

When twilight had finally set in, she walked back to the castle, dejected and forlorn. What the hell was the matter with her resolution to remain strong? One look at Jaime, and she had gone to pieces again! Tears were a sure sign of weakness, and she couldn’t allow them to take control of her. Jaime Lannister had walked out of her life as easily as he had entered it. But that was okay, she reassured herself. She would be fine, all would be well soon. She had her responsibilities and that was good enough for her to move on.

Like a woman in a trance, she made it back to her chambers. As soon as she entered, there was a knock. Answering the door, she was stunned to see who her visitor was. Cersei had personally come to meet her.

“Your Grace,” she bowed, not bothering to curtsey.

“I owe you my gratitude,” Cersei smiled, her eyes bearing the usual cold look she had specially reserved for her. “You returned my brother safely to King’s Landing.”

“In truth, he rescued me, your grace,” Brienne was unable to suppress a smile at the memories. “More than once.”

“Did he?” she laughed mirthlessly, flashing Brienne a look of jealous loathing . “I haven’t heard that story before.”

“Not such a fascinating one, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure you have many fascinating stories. Sworn to Renly Baratheon, sworn to Catelyn Stark, and now my brother…” The hatred in Cersei’s eyes was more evident now, while her voice was still sickeningly sweet. “It must be exciting to flit from one camp to the next, serving whichever lord or lady you fancy.”

“I don’t serve your brother, your grace--”

“But you love him!” She glared at Brienne.

Brienne didn’t know how to respond to this accusation. Agreeing to Cersei’s claim would mean accepting the harsh truth, which would only weaken her further. But she couldn’t bring herself to refute it either.

“Don’t deny it, my lady,” Cersei’s tone grew increasingly menacing at Brienne’s silence. “I can see it in your eyes. I would, however, advise you to refrain from harbouring any hope of reciprocation from him. Women throw themselves at my brother all the time, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same for them.”

Brienne decided to be truthful this time. “I’m aware of that.”

“I know what happened that night, Lady Brienne,” Cersei went on. “Keeping in mind my brother’s undying loyalty for me, I’m ready to forgive him. Men do waver at times. While most of them visit brothels, my brother sought comfort in your arms. It was nothing more than a drunken lapse on his part.”

_I’m now the Kingslayer’s whore!_

Something inside Brienne snapped, as her mind painfully went back to the nickname that had been going around the castle. “The mistake was equally mine, your grace.”

“Ofcourse it was a mistake!” Cersei continued ruthlessly. “All these years, he has resisted women far more beautiful than me. What makes you think that he would fall for someone like you?” She looked at Brienne as if she were a weed, or a thorn to be plucked out and discarded. “You might be aware that they call you his whore these days. Now, that’s not something a noblewoman like you deserves, isn’t it? Why don’t you take my sincere advice and make yourself scarce before you do your reputation anymore damage?”

“I have no intention of staying here more than necessary, nor do I intend seeing your brother ever again.”

“Good,” Cersei said smoothly. “Jaime has made all the arrangements for you to leave. Once the wedding is over, I would advise you to resume your journey to wherever you have to be.”

“I want nothing more than to leave this city, your grace.”

 

 

 

 

*****

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Tyrion couldn’t have done it,” Jaime continued with his futile attempts to reason with his family when they had gathered around Joffrey’s body at the Sept. The royal wedding had turned into a royal tragedy. Strangely, he felt next to nothing at the death of his son.

Odd, indeed, was the current state of his mind. He was more concerned about Brienne’s safety than the crisis his family was facing. Sansa had fled, and Brienne was missing as well. Had the wench successfully smuggled Sansa out of King’s Landing? His mind said a silent prayer to the gods to keep her safe, safe from his family, and out of harm’s reach. What pained him, however, was that she had left without even saying a goodbye. Just one final word would have sufficed. It would have been enough for him to carry on with his wretched life.

“Tyrion and Sansa have murdered him, and your precious lady of Tarth has helped her escape,” Tywin bellowed, irritated that Jaime refused to see the obvious. “She came here for the girl, and you were foolish enough to fall for her. She has used you, Jaime.” He looked at his son in disgust.

“Brienne had no such intention towards me, father,” he jumped to her defence.

“She has somehow managed to bewitch you,” Cersei shrieked. She had been continuously hysterical ever since her son breathed his last in her arms. “So much, that you’ve lost the ability to think clearly. Isn’t it obvious? She has helped Sansa escape.”

Brienne might have helped Sansa flee, but he was sure she had no hand in the murder. He knew that his wench would do no such thing.

“Find the girl.” Jaime could do nothing but watch in silence when Cersei barked orders to her men to find Sansa.

He hoped Brienne was not with Sansa, atleast not as long as his family was after her. They would never let Brienne be at peace, neither here nor away, and if his sister ever captured her, it would mean either death or torture for her.

When everyone else had left and he was alone with Cersei, Jaime grabbed her arm. “You will not touch Brienne,” he warned. “You gave me your word, remember?”

“In return for your loyalty.”

“Yes, and here I am by your side,” he said desperately. “What more do you want?”

Stepping closer to him, she ran her fingers along his cheek. “Our son is gone, Jaime. Avenge him,” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as wound her arms around his neck in an embrace. “Stay with me, and I promise I won’t harm the ugly cow, if that’s what you wish.”

Unsure if he could believe her, he extricated himself from her grasp and left, leaving her alone with her son.

+++++

“Find her,” Jaime whispered urgently. “I have a strong feeling that they’re not together. Help her find Sansa and fulfill her vow. Do whatever it takes to make sure she reaches the North safely. I don’t trust Cersei, she won’t rest until she finds both the women.” In the dead of the night, Jaime had summoned Bronn to the White Sword Tower along with Podrick Payne. “Take the boy with you. With Tyrion imprisoned, he is no longer safe here.”

“Why don’t you come with us?” Bronn urged him. “You love her--”

“I can’t,” Jaime refused. “Brienne probably hates me by now, and I might only end up invoking Cersei’s ire if I abscond. My presence would call attention to the royal soldiers who are after Sansa. I don’t want Brienne to get into trouble because of me.” He didn’t want to be a hurdle in her path. “Besides, there is a chance, however slim it may be, that Cersei might not harm her if I remain faithful to her. I’m willing to take that risk. So it is best that I stay here.”

“You do plan to see her someday, I hope?”

“If I’m lucky.” Jaime smiled sadly, realizing that fortune may not favour him so. “Send me a raven once you find her, and…” He uncovered the armour he had been meaning to give her. “This is for her. Don’t tell her it’s from me. I’ve had it specially made for her.”

Bronn nodded and went about dismantling the armour.

 _I hope, I got her measurements right,_ Jaime sighed wistfully, remembering every inch and every curve of her body. He had intended to gift her his sword as well, but that was something he wanted to do when he met her personally.

If he ever met her again...

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tywin dies. Cersei goes crazy. Jaime takes a decision.

“Goodbye, little brother.” Jaime pulled Tyrion into his arms, holding him close. His heart sank as he realized that he might never see his brother again. In a short span of just a few weeks, he had to deal with the misfortune of having to part with the two people dearest to him, those he loved beyond measure, the only ones who cared for him unconditionally. Tyrion had lost the trial which ended with the gruesome death of his champion, Oberyn Martell. Aiding Tyrion in his escape was the least he could do for his sibling, and Jaime hoped that he would make it out of here without incident, having no choice but to trust Varys to assist him to safety. First it was Brienne who had left him, and now his little brother. Jaime had never felt lonelier in his life! Here he was, all alone in a crowd which included his family. Such was the state of his life.

“You stay safe as well,” Tyrion’s voice shook as he tried his best to stop himself from breaking down.

Jamie let go of his brother reluctantly, fighting to keep a check on the mounting despair inside him. “That’s two in a row,” he lamented, voicing his feelings. “I never imagined I’d have to let go of the two people I love the most.”

“Then stop being an idiot and go after her,” Tyrion chided him in his usual confident tone. The spark in his voice was back and so was the twinkle in his eye despite the bleak future he faced. “You aren’t as unlucky as me, Jaime. You can, atleast, be rest assured that she loves you too--”

“Wait a minute.” Jaime caught on to something else in those words, completely overlooking his brother’s reference to Brienne. Ever since he returned, there was this lingering doubt in his mind, but he never knew for sure. There was only one way to find out. “What do you mean by _‘unlucky as you’_?” he pressed further, preventing Tyrion from changing the subject, accidentally or on purpose. “Have you fallen in love with Sansa?” He gave his brother a sharp look, daring him to lie.

“I don’t know.” Tyrion shook his head, confused. “I’m not sure if it’s love, but I am quite fond of her.” He looked forlorn, and somewhat guilty. “Our family has treated her like shit, Jaime, and I know she’s never going to forgive any of us for that. I tried to make amends for the way Cersei and Joffrey have behaved with her, but it’s no use, she still hates me. She always will. The Starks can never coexist with the Lannisters.”

Jaime grinned at him, reminded of his initial days with Brienne, the way he was forced to put up with her. “If it helps, I hated Brienne when I first met her. You can’t imagine the things I said to insult her. So it’s never too late. Maybe one day you and Sansa--”

“It’s time to go.” Tyrion suddenly seemed to be in a hurry. Aiming his torch upwards, he glanced at the staircase leading to his freedom. He turned to Jaime again. “Maybe one day…” he smiled wistfully. “But today is not that day, although you can do better. Go and tell Brienne how you feel about her.”

Jaime’s smile faded when he was reminded of his helplessness. “You know, I can’t.” The familiar burden of an invisible weight crushing his chest was back.

“Find a way to break out of Cersei’s clutches,” Tyrion urged him. “Brienne of Tarth has been, and is the best thing in your life. Don’t give up on her. Make her yours, for you will never find another soul who loves you as much as she does.” Tyrion took a step towards the exit, but stopped abruptly. “There is one last thing I forgot to tell you.”

“About what?”

“Cersei.” His brother’s expression changed, a disgusted frown replacing the longing for Sansa. “In your absence she fucked Lancel. I thought you should know, I should have told you this long back.”

To his surprise, Jaime didn’t find this unbelievable. “Cersei has always done what she wanted. When has she ever bothered about others? I even doubt if she ever loved me,” he said, his tone hollow.

“You deserve better than her.” Tyrion clasped his hand one last time before he began ascending the steps. “Goodbye, Jaime. I hope to see you one day, in better times.”

+++++

“You’re responsible for this.” Cersei’s tone was flat and dead, nearly as lifeless as the look in her eyes as she stared down at their father’s body. “You conspired with him, didn’t you? You let him escape once you had done your deed. What perplexes me is why you are still here? Why did you not flee with him?” She turned to him, her eyes flashing in anger. “Oh, I remember, isn’t it because of your promise to me? You stayed back because you care for the life of that bitch. You wanted to protect her at all costs!”

Jaime was appalled at her words. “What the fuck do you mean, Cersei?” Was she actually accusing him of murder?

“I know that you had approached father with the wish to marry that woman, though the gods only know what you see in her,” she went on, her tone still so dangerously low that it felt like the calm before a storm. “I’m also aware that he agreed to your request on the condition that you keep her away from Sansa, which you flatly refused.”

“I did speak to him about this, but that doesn’t mean--”

“You plotted with Tyrion to get rid of father!” She became hysterical now, raising her voice. “You knew that without him, my power and my capacity to execute the threat would be greatly reduced, that it would be easier for you to have your way and marry your whore. I can’t believe both my brothers betrayed their family for their own selfish reasons.” She gritted her teeth, breathing heavily. “But you’ve both been wrong about me. It’s not that easy to break me.” She shook her head, her eyes blazing at him like a madwoman.

“Cersei, I have no hand in this, the only thing I admit to is breaking Tyrion out of the dungeons. If there’s anyone who has been loyal to this family despite everything, it has been me.” Jaime insisted, shocked at the baseless allegation that she laid upon him.

“The result of your so-called _loyalty_ lies in front of you, brother,” she cried out, pointing to Tywin’s body. “You’re as bad a traitor to the family as our brother. You do have a knack of siding with our enemies, don’t you? First that cow and now our brother--”

“Neither of them is our enemy,” he protested, although he knew that reasoning with his sister was akin to banging his head on a wall. “And you also know that I don’t approve of Tyrion murdering our father. It is you who have to open your eyes and see that I am on your side, like I’ve always been, since our birth, throughout our lives.”

“If that is true, how did you so conveniently forget about me when you fucked that whore? For all I know, she might be carrying your spawn.” She was beside herself with rage and jealousy. “Fraternizing with the enemy and impregnating her with--”

“There is no need to drag her into this,” Jaime objected, his temper rising. “She is no whore, for she bedded the man who loves her... unlike you--”

Cersei raised a hand to stop him. “What the hell do you mean?”

“I know about Lancel.” Jaime nearly bit his tongue in fury as his mind went back to his conversation with Tyrion. “You couldn’t wait until I returned. You were so desperate that you welcomed another man to your bed. And it didn’t matter to you who it was, did it? You never loved me, Cersei, you just wanted me to fulfil your physical needs, to warm your bed and do your bidding whenever you wished. Hells, it wasn’t even about me--” he fumed, finding it difficult to speak. “All you wanted was a cock inside you, you didn’t care if it wasn’t mine, as long as it satisfied your needs--”

“Jaime!” she shouted, her eyes warning him to stop. She quietened down, pacing up and down in an attempt to regain her composure. “That makes us even. We have both been disloyal to each other, fucked other people. So we might as well let the matter be,” she said, her voice coming down to its usual pitch. “I’m even ready to forgive you for father’s murder, but I want them dead,”

“Them?” Jaime repeated, doubtful if he had heard her properly.

“Tyrion and--” She paused, her lips curling into a small smile as she looked straight into Jaime’s eyes. “Your dear Brienne of Tarth.”

“In what way is she responsible for father’s death?” Jaime couldn’t believe her logic. “She was not even present when it happened.”

“She was very much here when Joffrey was killed.” He could see the loathing for Brienne in her eyes. “She could have a hand in our son’s death, she could have aided Tyrion--”

Jaime had grown tired of her accusations. “We have already discussed this, Cersei--”

“Yes,” she snapped once again, not allowing him to speak. “Things were different then. Everything’s changed now. Father’s gone, we’re open and vulnerable. There are predators out there, waiting for a chance to tear us apart. The Starks and our other enemies have been looking for an opportunity like this. I can’t afford to take any risks.”

“If you think Brienne is going to aid Sansa and her brother to march against us, you’re being foolish. They’re the only Starks left, and they’re homeless and powerless.” Jaime tried to make her see reason.

“It could still happen,” she persisted, not bothering to register his point. “We’ve already lost two of our family within weeks. I can’t afford to let them harm Tommen.”

“What do you plan to do?” Knowing his sister, Jaime’s blood went cold as he assessed the various possible implications of her words.

“I want them all dead,” she said coldly. “That ugly bitch of yours and Sansa Stark, along with Tyrion.”

“You can’t harm Brienne!” he exclaimed, shocked that his sister could arrive at such a ridiculous conclusion. He knew Tyrion would take care of himself, and Brienne would go to any extent to protect Sansa, but what about his wench? She was too honest and straightforward to deal with the likes of his evil sibling. Jaime knew that Brienne was capable of taking care of herself, but couldn’t push away the insecurity and fear that gripped his heart.

_She would watch out for Sansa, no doubt, but who would watch out for her?_

“I have already deployed the required force to find them,” Cersei announced, relishing the sight of the horrified expression on his face.

He opened his mouth to object, but Cersei didn’t let him speak. “I want their heads. All of them. I will settle for no less.”

“You gave me your word.” Jaime stood there, rooted to the spot, cursing himself for believing her. “You assured me that you will let her be if I were to stay here by your side. I broke her heart and made myself the villain in her eyes just to make sure she was safe.”

“I did,” she agreed, a smug smile playing on her lips. “But things have changed now. If you expected me to keep my word forever, you were sadly mistaken, Jaime. I did all that for you,” her tone softened as she drew closer, placing a palm on his cheek. “I’m a Lannister. I lie at times, you should’ve known. I said all that just to get her away from you, and it worked.”

Jaime pushed her away. “I don’t believe you,” was all he could manage before he walked away, feeling nothing but disgust for his sister’s actions.

Returning to his chambers, he sat down at his desk, pouring himself a glass of wine. If breaking Brienne’s heart was bad, he hated himself even more now for blindly trusting Cersei. He was naive enough to have believed her, to have counted on her, to have thought that she could be decent enough to allow Brienne to be peaceful. He stared down his glass, cursing himself for his mistakes. He had tried to save Brienne’s life by smothering his feelings for her. But all that was a complete waste of time, earning him nothing but her ill opinion in return. Yet again, Cersei had managed to get what she wanted in every possible way. Brienne hated him for what he had done, she was far away from him, a fugitive with the royal guards after her head.

“Can I come in, my lord?” A servant stood at the door, awaiting his permission to enter. It was only then that Jaime noticed that he had left the door ajar.

“Yes.”

“There was a raven for you, my lord.” He handed him a letter. It was sealed, but it bore no name nor sigil. Who would be writing to him?

Once the man had left, Jaime opened the letter, this time making sure to close the door behind him.

_I’m at Winterfell._

His heart leapt as he instantly knew who it was from. With bated breath, he read on, hoping for some positive news about the wench.

_We have found Lady Brienne. She’s here in hiding, ready to rescue Sansa Stark from the clutches of Ramsay Bolton--_

Jaime looked up from the letter. Sansa in the hands of the Boltons? That was the last thing he had anticipated. Knowing the Boltons, he knew that Brienne had a tough task ahead of her. But that didn’t dampen the warmth that filled him when he came to know that his wench was safe.

_I think you should come here, Jaime. She needs all the help she can get. Most of all, she needs you._

Bronn had written to mention other details and information like the name of inn they were staying at, the same one Brienne was in.

 _She needs you_ … Jaime couldn’t help re-reading that line again and again. _And I need her too_ … _Doesn’t matter if she hates me now. It’s just a matter of time, I’ll convince her._

He jumped out of bed in joy, absolutely clear in his mind about what he had to do next. He dashed to his study and rummaged through the drawers, finding what he was looking for almost immediately.

_Thank you, Bronn, for showing me the path._

+++++

“What do you mean you’re resigning from the Kingsguard?” Cersei reached out to snatch the document from him, but Jaime was too quick for her. He handed the scroll to Kevan Lannister, who perused through it quickly, nodding slowly as his frown deepened.

“Written by Tywin and signed by King Joffrey himself,” Kevan noted. “You’re, by official royal decree, free from the kingsguard, Jaime--”

“But he can’t!” Cersei shouted, glaring first at Kevan and then at Jaime. “You won’t leave me, Jaime.”

“I can, and I will.” Overcome by a rush of emotions and an urge to be with Brienne again, Jaime had to work hard to keep his voice steady. He stormed out of the small council meeting with his uncle at his heel. Cersei stayed put, still dazed and unable to recover from the shock of his betrayal.

“I’m going out for a while,” he informed his uncle. “I can’t tell you where, or when I would be back.” He added as an afterthought “I trust you, and would request that Cersei be given as little information about this as possible.”

“But what about Tommen,” his uncle interjected. “The boy needs you. Cersei would be a bad influence on him.”

“Tommen has older and more experienced people like you to advise him, uncle. I hope you manage to keep him away from Cersei’s counsel. Besides, I’m not abandoning him for good.” He smiled, reassuring his uncle.

“Very well,” Kevan gave in. “Do what you must.”

Bidding his uncle goodbye, Jaime went about preparing for his journey to Winterfell.

Soon, he was on his way, a lone horseman out on a solitary journey, on the path to his redemption, to find the purpose of his life and to seek and woo his true love.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

*****

  
  
  
  
  


 

“My Lady.” Bronn gave her a short bow as soon as she opened the door.

“Ser Bronn!” she exclaimed, surprised to see him. She stepped aside to let him in, closing the door hurriedly after scanning the area to check if anyone else had seen them. She had arrived at Winterfell stealthily. Wary of her identity being compromised, the last thing she expected was being thrown into the company of an old acquaintance. Her heart stopped for a second as an unbidden thought crossed her mind. Had he come alone, or was Jaime--

“I came here with Pod,” Bronn explained his presence, almost as if he had read her mind. "We've been here for weeks and I just came to know you're here too."

 _Ofcourse he wouldn’t come. What was I thinking?_ _His presence is by Cersei, and his loyalty with her until the last day of his life._

“What brings you here, Ser Bronn?” She frowned at the potential reasons for his arrival. Why had he shown up all of a sudden? Had Jaime sent him here for her protection? When would he ever understand that she was very much capable of managing that herself.

“Lord Tyrion was arrested in suspicion of the King’s murder,” he said, bringing her up to date with the happenings in King’s Landing. He went on to tell her about Tyrion’s doomed trial and Tywin’s death. “Podrick, here, has been loyal to him as well. That makes the two of us his accomplices, so he wanted us out of Cersei’s reach. We’re here on his insistence.”

So Jaime had not sent them here. Once again, Brienne was struck with an unexpected pang of disappointment.

“Why Winterfell?” She asked, thinking of the uncanny coincidence that brought them to her.

“Cersei wouldn’t bother sending her men this far North,” Bronn explained. “Which makes this place perfectly safe for us.” Brienne gave it a thought, finding this theory logical. After all, Cersei would leave no stone unturned to seek out and punish her enemies. “What brings you here, my lady?”

Brienne hesitated, wondering if she could trust him enough to tell him the real reason of her being here. _Jaime trusts him, so why not?_ “Sansa is imprisoned here, married to Ramsay Bolton. I’ve been keeping a watch on her, biding my time to rescue her.”

“Why wait?” Bronn inquired impatiently. “Why not just get her out of there? I could help you--”

“She doesn’t want to be rescued.” Brienne paced the room, the frustration caused by her helplessness beginning to tell on her again. “I’ve tried reasoning with her, but she doesn’t trust me. She might still be under the spell of that Lord Baelish--” she was filled with rage at the recollection of her meeting with them at that inn, the thought of Littlefinger making her skin crawl. “I’ve been watching her ever since, waiting for some indication from her.”

Bronn suddenly changed the subject. “I have something for you. Hold on, I’ll just--” He motioned for her to wait while he strode across the passage to his room. Within seconds, he was back, carrying a huge trunk.

Clueless about what it could be, Brienne waited for him to reveal the contents of the box. When he laid it out on the bed, she found herself looking at the the most beautiful armour she had ever laid her eyes on. One look at it and she could make out that it would fit her perfectly.

“That’s for you, my lady.”

 _It has to be Jaime! No one else could… no one else knew... There’s no way I can accept it._ “Who--”

“Compliments from Lord Tyrion,” Bronn answered before she could finish the question.

_So, it’s not Jaime then._

“Why?” She was genuinely puzzled. Why would Tyrion gift her something so precious, a priceless gift so apt for her that no one other than Jaime could possibly think of it?

“He likes you,” Bronn shrugged, as if stating the obvious. “You’ve treated him well and you hold him in high regard. He happens to reciprocate those sentiments. For all I know, he’s probably aware that you are here for Lady Sansa, and he appreciates it. She’s his wife, after all, and he has a soft corner for her.”

Although touched by the gesture, she couldn’t bring herself to accept such an expensive gift. She took a close look at the armour, running her fingers over it, taking in the feel of it. It definitely appeared to be custom-made to her measurements and those cost quite a lot. Tyrion must have put in a great deal of time and money in choosing such a thoughtful gift for her. “I can’t--”

“Lord Tyrion wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Bronn was adamant and in no mood to accept her refusal. “It would be a waste of a beautiful gift if you don’t use it, Lady Brienne, and it would, no doubt, hurt him immensely.”

Brienne sat on the bed, continuing to study its intricate details and craftsmanship. Only now did she notice that it was blue, the colour of her eyes! She spent a few more minutes admiring the fantastic creation. When Bronn seemed convinced that she wouldn’t return the gift, he bid her goodnight and took leave of her.

As she got out of her armour and into her nightclothes, she mulled over the meeting with Bronn. When she left King’s Landing, she rode away with the grim realization that she would never see Jaime again. And that was what she wanted. But the sight of Jaime’s right hand man today brought back old memories. Painfully reminded of Jaime while she glanced at the window of the tower in the distance, she went back to her bed and settled down under her blankets. When she was just about to lie down, there was another knock on the door.

“Hello, Brienne.”

Brienne stood there tongue tied, staring at him. Even in the garb of a commoner, Jaime looked every bit the knight that he was. She lowered her gaze to note that his golden hand was covered with a black glove to match the rest of his attire. It felt a bit odd to see the lion of House Lannister dressed in black as compared to his usual splendour. The plain black, however, did nothing to conceal his charm and he looked as handsome as ever, a perfect antithesis to her ugliness. Hair slightly longer than usual and his stubble now grown into a proper beard, he reminded her of the first time they met.

“Won’t you let me in?” He leaned towards her, his eyes shining, a bright smile lighting up his handsome features.

Brienne held her breath. Why was he doing this to her? His voice, his smile, the whole aura of his presence… Why the hell did he have to come here? Nevertheless, she stepped aside to make way for him to enter.

“Have you come with Bronn?”

“Bronn doesn’t know that I’m here,” he leaned against the doorway, gazing at her the way he usually did. “I came to see you first.”

“Why are you here?” she asked, unable to contain herself any longer.

“Isn’t it obvious, wench?” He moved closer, taking her hand in his. “I’m here for you.”

She pulled her hand away roughly and moved backwards, putting sufficient distance between them. “I can’t do this again, Ser Jaime. I don’t want to talk about that night.” She paused, thinking how to make herself absolutely clear this time. “Ever again,” she added for emphasis, hoping he would take the hint and leave.

“Brienne, I--”

“Stop it, please,” she cried out. She knew what he was about to say, and she also knew why. Since that fateful night, she tried to think from his perspective. From where he stood, he had defiled her, besmirched her honour. He had done exactly what he had protected her from in Harrenhal and that guilt had probably been eating him since then. He was here out of chivalry, to make amends for crossing the line with her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he asked her to marry him.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you when you left without even saying goodbye.” His tone was soft and his eyes almost moist. “I rode all the way here for you. Don’t you understand? I want to marry you, wench. I lo--”

“Don’t,” Brienne interrupted him again. She should have been elated with his confession, but what she felt was infact exactly the opposite. She didn’t want promises of love when he so clearly chose to be with Cersei merely hours after fucking her. If he truly loved her, he would have told her long back. If she was the one in his heart, he would never have made arrangements for her to leave King’s Landing. The differences between them were as clear as day and night. They could never become one. She would always remain the ugly wench, and he the unattainable, handsome prince.

“Brienne, just listen to me.”

_He’s just doing this out of respect for me. I can’t allow him to live the rest of his life as a compromise with someone as ugly as me when any pretty maid of his choice would throw herself at him willingly. He couldn’t even bear the sight of me when he first saw me! How in the name of the seven can he think of a life with me? Cersei was right. He bedded me in a fit of passion. That doesn’t mean he loves me. I’m the Kingslayer’s whore… I could never be his wife._

“I have already told you long back,” she forced herself to refuse him. “I have no inclination towards marriage or a family.” There was no way he could actually be in love with her. His life began and ended with Cersei. He was only doing this because he feared that she… _Gods, he probably thinks I could be carrying his child!_ “I am not pregnant, Ser Jaime.” She made her position clear, wanting to leave no room for doubt. “So if you are here on that account, let me just say that you owe me no such obligation.”

“Obligation?” Jaime looked at her in disbelief. “Do you think I would want to marry you because I owe you something? Or because I fear that you might be pregnant with my child?”

Brienne turned away, hiding her emotions from his all-observant eyes. She wanted to desperately believe him, to run into his arms, but her common sense prevented her from falling for it. Sansa was her sole priority now, the purpose of her existence. She got carried away with her feelings for Jaime earlier, as a result ignoring her duty towards Sansa. She had failed to get her out of King’s Landing. Had she focussed on planning their exit sooner, Sansa wouldn’t be in the state she was today. She couldn’t fail her again and she couldn’t permit herself any further diversion. “My life is my vow, Ser Jaime, and I intend fulfilling it at any cost. I respect you, I always will, but it can be nothing more than that.”

“I’m not going to stand in the way of your vow, Brienne.”

“You won’t, but your name would,” she said, pointing out the blunt reality. “You’re a Lannister, Ser Jaime, You will always be one. And I’m sworn to the Starks. As long as the Starks and Lannisters are enemies, there can be nothing between us. As for me, I can’t think of anything or anyone else until I get Sansa out of that hell.”

Jaime looked at her for a long moment and then nodded, looking downcast. “Very well, my lady,” he murmured. “Since you have made your intentions clear, I will not bother you again.”

Hearing this, Brienne’s heart shattered into a thousand minute pieces. “Are you leaving for King’s Landing then?” she asked, as he turned to the door. The last thing she wanted was him lingering around, distracting her. After her downright refusal of his proposal, she didn’t want to stay in touch with him again.

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

When Brienne gave him a blank look, he went on to explain. “I made you a promise, remember?” She waited, allowing him to continue. “Returning Sansa to her family is as much my responsibility as yours. You swore a vow to Catelyn Stark, and I, in turn, made a vow to you. I intend to keep my promise.”

“I release you from your vow,” she said hurriedly, wanting nothing more than for him to get away from her sight. “I am very much capable of rescuing her myself.” It was with immense difficulty that she managed to get over him. She couldn’t bring herself to remember the agony, the distress that she felt when she saw him walk away from her at the Godswood. She didn’t want to go through the heartbreak of falling in love with him all over again when she knew that circumstances would always prevent them from being together. She had to remind herself every day that she was tied to the Starks, and he was a Lannister. They were like fire and water, they could never mix.

Today he had come in search of her claiming that he loved her, but blood would always prove to be thicker than water if it came to taking sides. If he had to choose between the Starks and his sister, he would never betray his family. No matter what, they would always end up on opposite sides. The gods had written their fate that way and she saw no point in trying to change it.

“I’m here to see to it that you and Sansa safely reach your destination.” He stood there obstinately having made his stand clear. “I will help you rescue her and I am not leaving until I see to it that you are both safe in Castle Black.”

“But you can’t come with us!” she exclaimed, stunned with his decision. This was something she had not anticipated and it would only end up complicating things further.

“You have no say in that, Brienne.” He pulled out a sword from his waist and handed it to her.

Brienne took it, a gasp escaping her lips as she examined it. “Valyrian steel,” she observed, running her hand along its blade, her discomfort forgotten at the sight of the magnificent weapon in her hands.

“Hmm, it’s yours,” he said softly.

Her eyes widened in shock and she thrust the sword back in his hand. “I can’t--”

“It was reforged from Ned Stark’s sword,” he interrupted before she could carry on with her objection. “You’ll use it to defend Ned Stark’s daughter.” He lowered his gaze. “I meant to give it to you much earlier. I would have, had we parted amicably.”

“I can’t accept this.” She shook her head, first the armour, and now this. “You know very well why.”

“Don’t consider this a gift. Think of it as my part in _our_ vow to rescue Sansa,” he whispered, stressing on ‘our’, making his intentions clear. “You rejected my proposal, Brienne, please do not do me the dishonour of refusing this as well.”

Brienne took it from him reluctantly and continued admiring the beautiful blade, tilting it and turning it around, observing it from every angle.

Jaime smiled at the look of awe on her face. “They say they best swords have names,” he said. “Any ideas?”

There was only one word that came to her mind. “Oathkeeper.” She looked into his eyes as she said this, realizing at that instant that she didn’t mean the sword.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime takes love advice from Bronn. Does he succeed?

“Jaime Fookin’ Lannister!” Bronn beamed, welcoming Jaime with open arms as soon as he stepped into the room. “I’m so pleased to see you. Never thought you’d come running up North this soon.”

Jaime returned the smile, glad to meet his friend again. “Good to see you as well, Bronn.” He went on to relate everything that happened in King’s Landing.

“Did you meet her?” Bronn looked at him eagerly. “What did she say? Did you--” He paused, taking one look at Jaime’s glum expression, his smile fading. “Didn’t go well, did it?”

Jaime hung his head gloomily, bringing Bronn up to date with his disastrous meeting with Brienne. From the moment he had faced her rejection, he felt as if he were staring down a deep chasm, a future that was dull and bleak. He had to admit that her reaction was understandable, but now that he did come all the way North, how was he to win her back? “She wants me to leave, Bronn,” he lamented. “She is pledged to Sansa and I pledged myself to her. So while I am going to help her save Sansa, my main reason for coming here is to get her back... I don’t know how to--”

To his astonishment, Bronn’s eyes had a mischievous gleam in them. “Why don’t you try seducing her?” he suggested, looking at Jaime hopefully.

Jaime turned red with embarrassment. “That was not what I was aiming at--”

“You have to, if you want her,” Bronn quipped. “Considering you’ve already managed to fook her once, I have no doubt you are pretty good at the art of seduction--”

“Shut up, Bronn!” Jaime blushed even deeper at the thought of doing it all over again. “I was drunk when it happened, and so was she. I don’t think either of us would have succumbed to it had we been sober.”

There was a long spell of silence where Bronn just stared at the ground, making him all the more uncomfortable. “So?” he drawled, breaking into a sly grin and fixing Jaime with a look so piercing that he shuffled his feet nervously, waiting for Bronn to spill out whatever the hell he was about to say. “I never got to ask you. How was it?” He gave Jaime a playful nudge in the arm.

“The best night of my life.” Jaime gazed into the distance dreamily, lost in those memories, remembering every aspect of it, every touch, every kiss, every blush that decorated her skin and cherishing the fact that he was the reason for it.

“Gods, you are madly in love with her!”

“I thought we had already established that long back. Sadly, she doesn’t want to see me again,” Jaime complained, a mournful note in his voice. “What do I do?”

Bronn scratched his beard, deeply immersed in thought as he walked to the bed and sat down at the edge.

“Well?” Jaime followed him, impatiently drawing his attention. “You’re supposed to help me out. I can’t go back without her--” he froze at the possibility of life without her “--hells, I don’t want to go back at all!”

“Lock yourself up in a room with her,” Bronn shouted all of a sudden, his face lighting up with excitement.

Jaime doubted if he had heard him right. “Excuse me?”

“Why not?” Bronn defended his stand. “It worked the last time, so I don’t see why it wouldn’t again. Take a leaf out of Qyburn’s book and see how it goes.”

Jaime was dumbfounded by his atrocious suggestion. “So you’re going to lock me in her room?”

“No,” Bronn said simply. “I’m going to make sure your lady misplaces her key tonight, and--” he paused, winking at Jaime “--she’s forced to spend the night in your room.”

Jaime waved off the ridiculous idea. “She can always request the innkeeper for a spare key,” he said dismissively. “Or in the worst case, she could ask to be shifted to another room for the night.”

“Aye,” Bronn agreed. “But you’re going to accompany her today when she goes out, and make sure you return by nightfall. When you arrive, I’ll take care of her key. Today is the owner’s day off, so the new lad managing the show for the night doesn’t know where the spare keys are. Now I know there aren't any vacant rooms available, so--”

“How do you know so much about this place?” Jaime was stunned at the level of Bronn’s awareness about his surroundings.

“I observe, Lannister,” he replied sagely.

Jaime put his mind to work, searching for another potential flaw in the plan, when there was a knock on the door. He got to his feet immediately when he saw Bronn step aside to let the wench in.

“Ser Jaime,” she greeted him as she approached.

“My lady.” Jaime bowed, taking her hand and kissing it gently. He watched her face for a reaction and was rewarded with a faint tinge of colour on her cheeks that pleased him immensely. But his satisfaction was short lived when she took her hand away immediately.

“I came to return this.” She held out a loosely wrapped bundle. It was the jacket that he had draped on her in King’s Landing, when she had jumped into the water to save his life.

He shook his head, refusing to take it. “It’s yours.” He pushed it back to her.

“I can’t--” she protested.

“Just like the sword, another something to remember me by,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “When we part ways for good and never see each other again.”

She stared at the garment in her hands, apparently deliberating whether she should keep it or not. After a long and painful silence, she nodded, heading towards the door without making any further attempt to return it.

“Lady Brienne,” Jaime blurted out, his heart thumping in anticipation of her response to what he was about to ask her.

She stood where she was, her hand on the door knob, waiting for him to continue.

“I was wondering if you could show me around Winterfell,” he asked, deciding on an impulse to put Bronn’s idea into action.

Brienne spun around, taken aback by his request. “I...er…” she hesitated, fidgeting with her fingernails. “Can Ser Bronn not accompany you?”

“Oh, Pod and I have some matters to sort out.” Bronn came to his rescue, looking at her apologetically. “So I’m afraid we won’t be able to.”

“Never mind, wench.” Jaime let the matter be, not wanting to push further. “I don’t want to be an obstacle in your way. I’ll just be on my own.”

“Well…” Brienne licked her lips, uncomfortable with the whole idea. “I was just thinking of making a trip to the village, so if you want to join me--”

“I’d love to.” Jaime agreed at once, anxious that she might change her mind if he hesitated.

After breakfast they rode through the village, with Brienne asking around about the Boltons and trying to pick weak links in the castle security. “I never knew Stannis was here!” she exclaimed as they walked to the local market while their horses were being fed and watered. He noticed that her face displayed a wide range of emotions as she digested that piece of information. She grew restless and oblivious of her surroundings, as though she had some unfinished business to attend to.

“How does Stannis being here matter--” Jaime stopped, realization dawning upon him as he absorbed her expression. “You plan to go after him, don’t you? You want to avenge Renly.”

Brienne was quiet, her silence good enough an answer to his question. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, wench.” He frowned, concerned only about her safety. He didn’t care if Stannis and the Boltons massacred each other. He just didn’t want Brienne to be caught in their fight.

“Please don’t try to dissuade me,” she requested, her distress evident in her voice. “I’ve been seeking this opportunity for long--”

“I don’t care if Stannis lives or dies,” he intervened, desperately wanting her to see reason. “It’s you I’m worried about. You cannot single handedly take on his army even if Bronn and I fight by your side.”

She stopped in her tracks, turning to him, her eyes shining with indignation. “I’m doing this with or without your help, Ser Jaime.” He had to hide a smile at her familiar obstinance. There she was, his stubborn old wench was back, her steely resolve being one of her qualities that made him fall for her.

“I’m always with you, my lady, I always will be.” He sighed, gazing deeply into her eyes. “You have my support, no matter what you decide.”

A lovely pink flush blossoming on her cheeks at his declaration, she wordlessly raced ahead, heading in the direction of a nearby shop that seemed to house weapons. It was only then that Jaime noticed how perfectly the new armour fit her.

“Is that a new armour, Brienne?” he asked deliberately, as she browsed some shields.

She gave him a surprised look. “It’s from your brother, Ser Jaime. I thought you already knew about it.”

Jaime searched for an excuse to cover up his inadvertent error, mentally cursing Bronn for such an unconvincing lie. “Tyrion doesn’t consult me for everything he does. If he had listened to my advice during the trial, he would perhaps have been a free man today, and not a fugitive,” he finished ruefully.

“I’m sorry about Lord Tyrion,” she said sympathetically. “He’s one of the nicest men I’ve met. He deserves better.”

“He does,” Jaime agreed fondly, missing his brother. “Did you know that he’s in love with Sansa?”

Brienne’s eyes widened on hearing this. “That can’t be true!” she exclaimed, vigorously shaking her head in disbelief. “They are so different, as mismatched as a pair can ever be--”

He took a step closer, reaching for her hand. “So are we,” he cut in softly, his fingers gently brushing against hers. “But we are in lo--”

She jerked away her hand abruptly, as if burnt by his touch and rushed out of the shop, muttering something indistinct. “It’s time to be getting back,” were the only words he could catch. He followed her, his despair and frustration increasing every second. No matter how hard he tried, she refused to budge. He was sure she reciprocated his feelings, but would she ever thaw? It was at times like this that the stubborn nature that he admired so much got on his nerves.

+++++

It was dusk by the time they returned to the inn and when they had finished dinner, Jaime decided to call it a night and took leave of her. Apprehensive of the success of Bronn’s preposterous suggestion, he slowed down as he headed for the staircase, taking one patient step at a time when he heard Brienne curse loudly in anger. His heart leaping to his throat, he stopped. That was the first part of the plan in action. He rushed downstairs.

“Is there a problem, my lady?” he inquired innocently.

“I seemed to have misplaced my key.” She was busy digging into her bag, irritated with her carelessness. “I must have dropped it somewhere while riding--” she speculated, looking dismayed “--and this lad here says he doesn’t know where the spare keys are.” She pointed to the boy sitting at the counter. “Nor are there any vacant rooms where I could shift tonight until the innkeeper is back in the morning.”

 _Bless you, Bronn,_ Jaime thanked him in his mind, and before he could make her the offer he was planning to, Bronn had arrived.

“I hope you two had a nice day.” He flashed them a bright smile, throwing Jaime a knowing, suggestive glance.

“I can’t find my key,” Brienne lamented, repeating her woeful tale for Bronn’s benefit. “What do I do for the night?” She looked at him hopefully as if he would magically come up with a solution. “Where would I go? It’s too late to find another inn.”

“Well...” Bronn pretended to think. “Pod is sharing with me, but--” he turned to Jaime “--he’s alone. You could stay with him for tonight--”

“No!” She looked scandalized. “That’s one thing I cannot--”

“I’m afraid there’s no other way out, my lady.”

Jaime handed her the key he had ready in his hand. “Here,” he said. “Don’t worry, Brienne, we’re not going to end up like last time.” To this, Bronn gave an ill-timed snort, which he tried to convert into a cough when Jaime glared at him, worried that this might give their game away.

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea.” She looked worried.

“Take it.” He thrust the key in her palm. “You know my room, go ahead and make yourself at home. I need to have a word with Bronn, I’ll be there in sometime.”

After a long pause that seemed to be a battle against her inner conflict, she finally accepted the key and made her way up the stairs, leaving him mildly convinced of the possibility that the plan might, infact, succeed.

Once she was out of earshot, Jaime turned to his companion who was grinning mischievously at him. “Have a wonderful night, Ser Jaime,” he teased, much to Jaime’s chagrin. “Don’t let me hold you up for long, for every minute you waste here is a minute that you could be spending in your lady’s arms.”

“Wipe that stupid smile off your face,” Jaime retorted, his ears growing hot at the prospect of Bronn’s suggestion coming to life. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Ah,” Bronn clutched his chest dramatically. “Was all my effort for nothing?” he asked, looking pained. “Please don’t throw away this wonderful chance of making her want you again. Work your magic on her, fook her like you’ve never fooked anyone before.”

“She’s a maiden, Bronn--” He started off as usual, then reddenned as he remembered.

“Not anymore, remember?” Bronn’s smile grew wider. “You made sure you were the one to--” he searched for a polite way to put it. “--do the needful,” he finished tamely.

“Not going to happen tonight,” Jaime said firmly. “I want her to make the first move this time, I want to be sure she wants me.”

“Then I’m afraid, my friend, you’re going to be waiting forever.” Bronn clicked his tongue in frustration.

“I’m not going to force myself on her!” Jaime exclaimed. “It’s morally wrong, and even if I did, my head would roll on the floor. She owns a valyrian steel sword now and I don’t want to be at the wrong end of it.”

“I never asked you to do such a thing,” Bronn said defensively. “Women throw themselves at you all the time. Use your seduction skills, and she’ll fall straight into your arms and declare her love for you. You do know how it works right?” he looked at Jaime in doubt. “A glance here, an accidental touch _there_ \--”

“I get your point.” Jaime raised his palm to stop him, growing hard at the thought of seducing the wench.

“Then get on with it.” Bronn pointed to the stairs. “Don’t stand here wasting your time with me.”

Jaime raced up the stairs with a spring in his step and when he reached his room, the door was open and Brienne sat there, perched at the edge of the bed. She tensed at his arrival, looking extremely ill at ease.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, worried if he had done anything to upset her. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

She rose as soon as he entered. “I need a bath,” she said, biting her lip. “And I just realized that all my clothes are stuck in my room.”

He walked to his trunk and rummaged through it, pulling out a bathrobe. “This is the best I can find.” He tossed it to her. “Make do with it for the night. By morning, we’ll find a way to get you back to your room.”

“There’s one more problem.” She went on to explain that she had to watch out for the window on the tower, looking for any sign from Sansa that indicated that she wanted to be rescued. “The window in this room doesn’t provide a view to the tower,” she complained.

“You can rest assured that nothing’s going to change in one night.” Jaime voiced the frustration that was building up inside him at her excessive obsession with Sansa. “And you’re not going to be watching her while you sleep, so I don’t think it would matter much.”

“It may not be important to you, ser,” she said, hurt by his dismissal. “But it is my priority over everything else.”

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, not wanting to offend her. “That didn’t mean to come out the way it did. If it helps, I can ask Bronn to keep an eye on her.”

She sat down on the bed, sighing. “You’re probably right,” she said in a small voice, conceding to his point. “One night wouldn’t matter much. I just worry too much when it comes to her.”

“Why don’t you get on with your bath then,” he suggested, wanting to divert her from Sansa, who, surely, was not on his agenda for the night. “I’ll go next.”

She took the robe he had given her along with a towel and left. And then, all Jaime could do was wait, anxious of how the night might pass. Getting ready for a bath, he took his shirt off and was about to get out of his trousers, when the bathroom door opened and out came the wench, clad in the robe which barely reached her knees, exposing her wonderfully long and slender legs. She stood rooted to the spot when she saw him gaping at her.

For a long spell of awkward silence, neither of them spoke, while each took in the other’s semi-naked state.

“You can--” She pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “I’m done.”

“I can see that,” he said hoarsely, his gaze dropping to her chest, as he peered through the opening in her robe that revealed the deliciously enticing curve of her breasts.

Conscious of his eyes on her, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other in an ungainly fashion and moved towards the window for want of anywhere else to go.

“I should probably go.” Jaime broke out of his trance and left, leaving the wench staring out of the window.

 _Gods, tonight’s going to be awful,_ he thought. _Fuck Bronn, and fuck his stupid ideas, and fuck me for listening to him._

He rushed through his bath, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, for being alone with his naked self only made him want to do things to himself as his mind brought up inappropriate thoughts about the woman who would be sharing his bed for the night. He wanted to make sure he didn’t end up with an embarrassing situation before he faced her again. Throwing a towel around his waist, he stepped out, soaking wet.

Hearing the door open, Brienne left her post at the window, and approached him. “Ser Jaime,” she breathed, her eyes wandering over his damp, naked chest as he stood there, dripping water all over the floor.

 _She does seem to like what she’s seeing,_ he hoped, trying to contain his mind from breaking into a happy little dance.

“Why don’t you just--” she awkwardly pointed to the clothes that were strewn on the bed, indicating that he should get dressed. She went back to her position by the window and resumed staring into the darkness.

Shaking himself dry, he dropped the towel, reaching for the clothes that lay on the bed. “I’ve finished,” he called out when done, clad only in his pants as he usually did when he slept.

Brienne turned around, her gaze once again dropping to his bare chest as she allowed her eyes to linger there for slightly longer than required.

_She can’t take her eyes off me!_

When she sensed that he was watching her, she averted her eyes immediately. Picking up a pillow and a blanket from the bed, she tossed them on the ground, spreading the blanket open to make a bed for her.

Jaime had not anticipated this. “What are you doing?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor--”

“No one’s sleeping on the floor in this weather.” He made himself absolutely clear. “Pick your side of the bed, and I’ll stick to the opposite corner.”

Brienne shook her head. “No,” she objected. “We can’t make the same mistake again. As if last time wasn’t enough--”

“Things are different this time, wench.” He tried to persuade her, hoping she would understand.

When she still seemed unconvinced, he decided to distract her. “Care to spar, my lady?” he invited, reaching for the sword that he had kept on top of his trunk. “Nothing better a good stretch of the limbs before sleeping.” Knowing her keenness for practise and her inclination towards swordplay in general, he expected her to fall for it without much coaxing.

“Now?” she asked in disbelief, although looking tempted at the prospect. “Even if we do engage in a duel, I’m going to win,” she declared with utmost confidence.

“Why don’t we find out?” He smiled mischievously, handing her Oathkeeper. “Come on, then.” He led her to the centre of the room. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“If that’s what you want,” she agreed, returning his smile, and took her position opposite him. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked again. “That’s a valyrian steel blade I’m holding. I don’t want to kill you--”

Without waiting for her to finish, Jaime lunged at her, their swords meeting mid-air as she reacted on time to parry his blow deftly. Though the training with Bronn helped, he soon discovered that he was no match for her as they began duelling with full intensity. Whichever direction he chose to strike from, she responded instantly, defending herself each time perfectly.

“You’re too slow,” she commented, panting. “I can predict every move of yours. If you would stop looking here and there and focus on aiming your blade at me, you’d be much more difficult to beat.”

 _I’m distracted, wench, and it’s all thanks to you._ All the time, Jaime had to force himself to concentrate on her blade rather than her robe, which had now shifted provocatively, leaving a good part of her chest and her thighs naked, teasing him, tormenting him, driving him to the edge of madness-- _Fuck!_ he swore under his breath, drawing his mind away from the diversion. At this rate, he was going to lose sooner than he expected.

An evil thought struck him when his eyes fell upon the pool of water on the floor in between them.

 _Unchivalrous, and totally unbecoming for a knight,_ a part of his brain rebuked him.

 _Romantic, and absolutely acceptable,_ the better, more sensible part of his mind took over, convincing him that this was right.

Without warning, he retreated a few steps, taking Brienne by surprise. Confused by his move, she charged at him with attack on her mind when she stepped on the puddle on the floor and slipped. Jaime was ready for her, and before she could touch the ground, he caught her.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered, without much conviction or regret. “You knew it, didn’t you? You drove me to it.”

“Everything’s fair in--” he was about to say ‘ _love and war’,_ but checked himself. “I’ve not done anything wrong, wench, you slipped and fell.” He smirked, wrapping his stump around her tightly. “Yield,” he breathed in her ear, gently disarming her and tossing her sword on the bed. The next to join it was his, and now that his good arm was free, he wound it around her, drawing her closer. His hand sliding down her back, he gave her waist a light squeeze, painfully aroused as he felt her wriggle at the contact. “I won,” he declared triumphantly, not meaning the duel at all.

One arm around his neck, she straightened herself, blushing, placing her other palm firmly on his chest to support herself. As her fingers tangled with his chest hair, increasing his distress and frustration, Jaime had to muster all his resolve and self control to stop himself from giving in to his desire.

“Ser Jaime,” she implored, wordlessly pleading with him to let her go. That only made him grip her harder, the adorable innocence in her pretty eyes making him ache for her all the more. _There’s nothing more alluring in a woman than innocence,_ he decided.

“Yes, Lady Brienne?” he replied in a playful tone, smiling at her seductively, unleashing the fullest extent on his charm on her.

“Would you--” she tried to steady herself, but ended up digging her fingers into his back when she slipped further.

“Are you sure you don’t need my support?” He leaned closer, inching his lips close to hers when she pushed him away, a bit too forcefully. It was his turn to slip and as his ill luck would have it, he was on the floor, rubbing his back.

“That was harsh, wench,” he grumbled, glaring at her, the romance of the mood completely destroyed, replaced by pain and frustration. He slowly shuffled to his feet, clutching the edge of the bed for support.

Brienne only smiled, a lovely radiant smile that made Jaime feel that she could almost be perceived a beauty. “Everything is fair in--” she started in the same teasing tone, but stopped, a solemn expression replacing the shy blush on her face as she stepped away from him.

“Yes, Brienne?” Not one to give up that easily, he caught her wrist before she could get away and pulled her into his arms again. “I hate incomplete sentences,” he growled, feeling her shudder at his tone. “So why don’t you tell me--”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, wriggling out of his grasp and making her way to the side of the bed closest to her. “I have a long day tomorrow,” she announced, getting into the blanket. “Good night, Ser Jaime.”

 _There goes my chance._ Cursing himself, he followed her, taking his corner and sliding into the blankets.

+++++

When Jaime opened his eyes, the sun was just beginning to rise with the first golden rays pouring through the gap in the window. He didn’t need the light to find Brienne curled up in his arms, her hand around his waist and her legs intertwined with his. He peered down at her, one look at the serene smile on her face and he felt at peace with the world. He wanted her, he wanted to make her his wife, to shower all his love on her, to prove to the world that he loved her.

He was about to kiss her, when he was rudely reminded of her words. When she had made it clear that she didn’t want any such advances from him, how was he to violate her wishes? It was then that he was struck by a strange dilemma. She lay in his bed, in his arms, happy and contented. What if she had moved closer to him during the night seeking comfort in his arms? What if she wanted this… this proximity… what if she desired him? If that was true, pushing her away would be a huge blunder, and he would end up hurting her again, the way he had by dismissing their first night together as a drunken mistake.

But on the other hand, if she had not been the one to reach out to him, if this was just an accidental sleep induced gesture… _I could spend hours deliberating, but every moment wasted is one that’s lost forever…_

Deciding to take a chance, he gently turned her on her back and kissed her. He was rewarded with a sleepy moan and she kissed him back, encouraging him to take a step further. Soon, he was on top of her with his hand wandering all over her body, slipping into her robe, craving for the feel of her soft, burning skin against his. He deepened the kiss, his hardness painfully pushing against her thighs as he reached down and began fumbling with her robe. He would take it slowly this time, the way he had always imagined their first time to be, and not the drunken lustful mess that it had ended up to be the last time.

Letting go of her lips, he traced a path downwards, kissing her throat and neck as he pulled her robe open, his fingers sliding over her body, caressing every bit of skin he could reach.

“Gods!” she whimpered in her sleep, giving him exactly the response he yearned for.

“Oh, Brienne, look at me,” he gasped into her chest, wanting her to wake up and look him in the eye. He wished to drown in those deep blue pools when he made her his for the second time in their lives. “Tell me you want me too.”

Wake up, she did, but taking one look at their plight, she yelped, the horrified look on her face clearly telling him to back off. And so he did, at once realizing what a huge mistake he had made!

She looked livid as she got to her feet, straightening her robe to cover herself up. “Ser Jaime--”

“I’m sorry...I...I thought…” he stammered. “I thought you wanted it too.”

“And I suppose I told you what I wanted.” Her eyes blazed with fury. “If you cannot respect--”

“I woke up and found you in my arms,” he tried to explain, unable to face her fiery gaze. “I assumed you too…” he trailed away, his heart sinking at the thought of how sorely mistaken he was.

“I apologize then,” she said, agitated. “For this, and for the night I walked into your chambers and got drunk, somehow ending up in your bed...as your whore.”

“Brienne!” he shouted, shocked to hear her utter the word. “I--”

“What else do you expect me to say? This is somehow becoming a habit with us. Last night was another ploy, I’m sure, like the night we were locked in together at King’s Landing.” She looked at him angrily as she rushed to the door, eager to leave the room. “Was it you and Bronn the last time too?”

“No, I swear, wench, neither of us had anything to do with what happened that night--” He looked away, lost for words, desperately thinking of a way to convince her.

He had to tell her how he felt. “I’m not just out to fuck you, Brienne, though that might be the impression you get. I love you, I pushed you away because Cersei was after your neck. She--” he stopped, glancing towards the door at the lack of response, when he found that she had already gone.

He sank on the bed, clutching his head in despair. _Have I lost her forever?_

+++++

They were sitting at the breakfast table when Jaime related his disastrous experience to Bronn, while berating him for his ridiculous suggestion. “None of this would’ve happened if I had not taken your advice,” he said woefully. “Now I’ve fallen even lower in her eyes.”

“No you haven’t.” Bronn exuded the same enthusiastic confidence as before. “She wants you all the same, she’s just stubborn. That, and her vow stops her from getting close to you. The moment she lets her guard down, like last night, she’s painfully reminded of her priorities.”

Jaime looked at him, impressed. “Do you always analyze people this much?”

“I use my common sense, Lannister,” Bronn replied cheekily. “And so should you. Now that last night has proved that she wants you, we just have to--”

Jaime put his hands up in defeat. “I’m not going to seduce her or woo again and make a fool of myself. I’m awful at it.”

“Hmm,” Bronn agreed, closing his eyes and pondering for a while. “Jealousy!” he blurted out suddenly, grinning from ear to ear. “That’s the solution to your problem.”

Jaime was lost. “I’m sorry, but--”

“A wise man once told me jealousy brings out one’s true feelings.” Bronn flashed him a conspiratorial look. “Make her jealous, that’s what you’re going to do.”

Jaime wearily leaned back in his chair. Bronn had definitely lost his mind. “As if it’s going to work.”

“It worked on you.” Bronn smirked. “Remember how your brother’s spark of Oberyn Martell’s made-up attraction towards the lady made you so wild with anger that you almost fucked her.”

“Even if we assume for a second that it would work on her, how am I supposed to do that, Bronn? As if there’s a woman around here waiting for me to woo her.”

“There is,” Bronn said, gesturing to a table adjacent to theirs. “You see those two there? That man’s staying here with his daughter, who, you can see, is young and beautiful. Their room is just next to yours. So why don’t you meet her at dinner tonight?”

“No thanks,” Jaime refused, appalled by the idea of having to seduce some random woman. “I took your idea once, I’m not going to make the same mistake again.”

“Suit yourself.” Bronn shrugged. “But if seduction didn’t work with her, why not try the opposite? Stop chasing her and abide by her rules. Play hard to get, for that’s what she wants, isn’t it? For you to stay away from her. Let her see you with another woman, and then tell me if she wants you or not.”

Jaime was about to firmly reject his counsel once again, when Brienne appeared all of a sudden and seated herself on the chair next to Bronn. “Hello, Brienne,” he said tentatively, trying to make conversation.

Obviously still upset with what had happened, she replied with a short nod.

Miffed at her cold behaviour, Jaime decided to let his eyes wander to the table where his pretty neighbour sat. The girl caught his eye and smiled at him. Jaime smiled back, giving her a friendly wave.

“Who is she?” Brienne directed the question to Bronn, the irritation in her tone unmistakable.

“Oh, just a new neighbour,” Jaime replied lazily, his smile widening as he continued to stare at the girl, deliberately avoiding the wench.

“So typical,” Brienne muttered under her breath, clenching her fists, but Jaime heard her.

“I’m sorry, what?” He turned to her, tearing his gaze away from the new girl.

“Do you even know her name?” she asked, her tone confrontational.

“It’s not too difficult to find out,” Jaime said cheerfully. “I was just thinking of going over to talk to her.”

“All you men are the same,” Brienne criticised, her eyes shooting daggers at him. “You see one pretty face and off you go, chasing after her like she’s the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen.”

Before he could react, she stormed away as quickly as she had arrived, leaving Jaime wondering if he was supposed to be happy with her reaction, or worried.

“I told you,” Bronn said triumphantly. “You just had to look at that girl once. Now imagine, if you actually spoke to her, or held her hand…”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime flirts with his new friend and Brienne reacts to it badly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tweaked canon events a bit to fit them into my events.  
> And Warning : Angst ahead, tread carefully...

_Why should I care who he courts?_

Huffing her way out of Jaime’s presence was easy, getting her mind off the look that the pretty blonde gave him a while ago was not. Brienne tried hard to stop breaking her head over the various possibilities that could arise out of Jaime’s incidental meeting with the girl. But all that raced through her mind was how perfect a match she was for him!

_Conventionally feminine. A lady by Westerosi standards. A woman with grace, beauty and delicacy... The mysterious stranger seems to possess all the virtues expected of a woman! None of which I can ever boast of._

Once she was past the initial shock, it was unsurprising that Jaime was instantly attracted to the beautiful stranger. These qualities were perhaps what might have drawn him to her in the first place. She was everything Brienne was not. She was everything a woman could be to fill the void that Cersei’s absence had left in his life. She was nothing like Brienne, and everything a handsome knight like Jaime could ever wish for in a wife.

Her self-introspection resulted in a familiar sense of heartbreaking emptiness inside her. When Jaime arrived at Winterfell, she had turned him down despite knowing that he was here for her. She had declined his proposal of marriage in favour of her vow. Her promise to Lady Catelyn apart, what good was a union that came out of a sense of obligation? That a beautiful man like Jaime could fall for an ugly wench like her seemed absolutely far-fetched to her. That day, she had concluded that it was his honour that had brought him to her, not his heart. He wanted to make her his wife to save her from being labelled a whore-his whore. But last night gave her a feeling that she might have been wrong in her assessment of the true intention behind his actions. What if there was a chance, slim though it may be, that he loved her? But unless he said anything, all she could do was speculate.

 _Time to pull myself together and focus on the task at hand,_ she decided _._ It was time to keep her promise, to achieve her life’s purpose. When Sansa had initially refused to accept help, Brienne had instructed her to light a candle on the topmost window of the tower if she wished to be rescued. And since then, Brienne kept a constant vigil on that window.

 _Lady Sansa, give me a hint…_ _anything to keep me away from my disturbing thoughts._

Pushing Jaime out of her head, she turned her attention to the window, wishing that Sansa would send out some indication to her to be rescued. What she desperately needed was a distraction, something constructive to put her mind to, something that would actually lead her a step closer to the fulfillment of her vow.

_The way he held me last night…_

Unbidden, her mind once again wandered off and settled on Jaime, and she was left longingly recollecting his touch. The memory of his lips on hers continued to torment her, soft and sweet as she tasted him again. The feel of his fingers trailing across her bare skin that was warm and flushed with his touch was still fresh in her mind. And the duel they had engaged in before bedtime… if one could call that a duel! To her, it seemed more like a romantic power-play, an excuse for him to touch her.

That was when it crossed her mind that he probably loved her. The way he had looked into her eyes was mesmerizing… as if she were the most beautiful creature in the seven kingdoms, as if he desired nothing in the world, but her! That was what had driven her to seek him out this morning, to find out what was truly in his heart. But seeing him staring at his neighbour had left her confused and disappointed, rudely reminding her that no man would ever love her, for if he did harbour such feelings for her, how could he so quickly move on to court that other woman? Questions were all that troubled her mind whenever she thought about Jaime. She had approached him with an intention to apologize to him for her emotional outburst accusing him of what happened in King’s Landing, but the sight of him gaping open-mouthed at an unknown beauty put her off, leading to her hostile reaction.

 _If he’s least bothered about how I feel, why should I care to apologize? What good there is in finding out what is in his heart when it is so obvious?_ The best thing she could do now was keep away from him as much as possible and never let herself get close to him again. _That’s the least I can do after last night to spare myself any further heartbreak._

 _Back to Sansa,_ she forced her attention to the window.

But her mind strayed yet again. _His strong arms, his bare chest, the water droplets glistening on his skin, waiting to be licked…_

A loud knock brought her back to reality. Reddening, she answered the door, trying to compose herself. “Ser Bronn,” she stepped aside to let him in, wondering what could’ve brought him to her doorstep.

Bronn looked at her, concerned. “Is everything fine, my lady?” he inquired. “You look… odd.”

 _Damn,_ she swore under her breath, clicking her tongue in frustration. Could this man read minds? “Nothing’s wrong,” she muttered, quickly pulling herself up, ousting all thoughts of Jaime from her head.

“I’ve come here to relieve you,” he announced, striding across the room and dragging a chair to the window. “It’s well past your mealtime and I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything. So why don’t I watch the tower for some time, while you go fill your stomach?”

His offer was too enticing for her to resist, but seeing him alone brought about a nagging doubt in her mind. She hesitated at first, deliberating if it was appropriate to ask him or not. “Was Ser Jaime with you?” she finally ended up inquiring.

Bronn sat down, scrutinizing her face. “He is with Rose, my lady.”

“ _Rose?_ ” she wondered aloud before she could stop herself, despite knowing fully well who he was referring to.

“Aye, the girl next door,” he confirmed, continuing to watching her carefully.

She bit the inside of her cheek, inadvertently hurting herself. “Was he with her all morning?” she pressed further, dreading the answer.

“Yes.” Her chest burned in a sudden surge of hatred for the unknown girl. “He seems to have taken a liking to her,” he went on cheerfully, unaware of how much this information bothered her. “After his sister’s betrayal, I was worried about him, but looks like he’ll be fine, he’ll find love again--”

“Love?” Brienne snapped, not bothering to tone down the agitation in her voice this time. “It’s barely hours since he’s met her. What makes you think he’s in love with her?” The basis for that question was one part anxiety and the other part rage that had been simmering inside her since morning, threatening to explode. _Rose… the name itself sounds repulsive…_ No one knew the kind of revulsion the flower by that name brought her. It reminded her of Ronnet Connington and the insult she had to suffer at his hands. _Not just the flower_ , she thought, _I now despise everything by that name._

“No, he isn’t. Not yet,” said Bronn carefully. “Ofcourse, that doesn’t mean he won’t fall for her. He’s completely smitten, so it’s just a matter of time. But why do _you_ ask, my lady?”

“No specific reason,” she forced a casual tone. “I just wanted to know. I’m happy for him,” she added, smiling to conceal her agony.

Bronn stared at her in disbelief. “Really?”

Worried that her eyes might betray her emotions, Brienne looked away, shuffling her feet uncomfortably and clenching her fists. “I should probably take your advice and go down,” she said, abruptly changing the subject.

With Bronn guarding the tower, she left. Little did she expect to run into Jaime and his new-found love downstairs. She saw the pair get up, presumably after finishing their meal, and it looked as if he was now bidding her goodbye. She urged herself to turn away at that very instant, but her feet seemed to be stuck to the ground for she stood still, staring at the pair. Anger and Jealousy tore through her, ripping her apart when she saw him give her his most charming grin. The girl called Rose left the inn with Jaime alone at the table at last. Having seen enough, Brienne was about to leave the place, but it was too late. He had spotted her and was heading towards her.

“Lady Brienne!” he called out before she could run away.

Now, she had no choice but to wait for him, her cheeks burning with rage and embarrassment. “Ser Jaime,” she greeted him as soon as he was by her side, fighting to keep her voice steady.

“Have you had anything to eat?” he asked, oblivious of her inner turmoil.

She shook her head.

“Come along then,” he invited her. “I can keep you company.” Pulling out a stool at the nearest vacant table, he gestured to her to sit down. “Had you come a little earlier you could’ve met Rose, she just stays--”

“--next door,” finished Brienne. “I know. I saw her this morning, remember?”

Was it her imagination, or did he really have a dreamy look on his face when he described his new friend? “I was just telling Rose how we met. Gods, I still can’t believe how much we used to hate each other then!”

She was shocked that he would reveal their secrets to a complete stranger. “I hope you haven’t given away my true identity to her.” Her voice turned out harsher than necessary. “I’m supposed to be here in hiding--”

“I’m not an idiot, wench.” He sounded angry now, his tone matching hers. “Ofcourse I didn’t divulge any more information than required. I just told her that you were a friend who I grew to respect after initially hating you, and lied for extra measure that we fought together at the war.”

 _A friend and a fellow soldier... that’s all I’ll ever be!_ Upset at being introduced this way, Brienne bit her lip, her heart sinking. “I should be going.” She got to her feet abruptly and was about to leave.

“You haven’t had your meal,” he stopped her, narrowing his eyes. “And you had nothing to eat this morning as well. Why--”

“I’m not hungry,” she said defiantly, her voice choked.

She was about to dash off, when, sensing her agitation, he immediately sprang to his feet. “Wench, hold on--”

“Excuse me, Ser Jaime, I don’t feel quite well.” Without waiting for a reaction, she bolted towards the staircase, ignoring the spasms of hunger pinching her belly. But more than hunger, it was the crushing pain in her chest that destroyed her. _Rose, indeed,_ she muttered to herself, hurrying up the stairs, climbing two steps at a time. She neither stopped, nor looked back until she was at her door. _What an awful name..._

“Back so soon?” Bronn looked surprised when she barged in.

“I decided I’m not hungry,” she asserted, taking her place by the window sill again.

For a while, Bronn just looked at her, saying nothing. “You look disturbed,” he concluded after a long spell of observing her. “It’s about him, isn’t it? Did you run into him downstairs? Did you both have an argument?”

She looked away, unable to face him for fear of having her deepest feelings uncovered. “Yes, I met him,” she admitted. “But I’m fine.”

“You saw _her_ with him, didn’t you?” he guessed, reading her emotions perfectly. “It’s been gnawing your head since morning. You can’t stand seeing him in the company of another woman.”

“That’s absolutely untrue.” She shook her head vigorously, desperate to contradict him, adamant on proving him wrong. “I don’t care who he--”

“You definitely do,” he cut in, seeing through her bluff instantly. “Why don’t you accept it, my lady?”

Brienne faced him, standing defiantly with her hands on her hips. “Accept what?” she demanded, knowing fully well what the answer would be.

The reply that came was exactly the one she feared. “That you love him.”

“I’ve already made it clear… to myself and to him,” she said firmly. “Love has no place in my life, nor does Ser Jaime.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t love him,” Bronn insisted, refusing to leave her at peace.

“What I feel is of no significance anymore. He seems to be more interested in her,” she fumed, wanting to put an end to this subject. “Regardless, I don't want to discuss Ser Jaime anymore.”

“As you wish, Lady Brienne.” He said no more and walked away, leaving Brienne alone with her depressing thoughts. _How does it matter how I feel? Ser Jaime now seems to have found love elsewhere. He cares a damn about me,_ she said to herself, her gaze returning to the window.

Staring into the open, her mind far away from what her eyes beheld, she was distracted by a commotion. There seemed to be a sudden, unnatural rise in activity with people scurrying about here and there. Something had clearly happened, and she had to find out what it was. Quickly donning her armour, she fastened Oathkeeper to her belt, ready to check if Sansa was in any trouble. She opened the door to step out when she collided headlong into Pod who seemed to be in a hurry.

“Watch where you’re going, Podrick,” she admonished him. No matter how hard she tried to groom him, the boy remained as clumsy as hell.

“M’lady,” he addressed her, panting. “I have news. Stannis’ men have been defeated. Ramsay Bolton has won.”

Her irritation now gone, Brienne was filled with a sudden rush of excitement and apprehension. “Is he dead?” she asked, thinking about another promise she had made to herself. If Renly’s murderer was still alive, this was her best chance to avenge him. She had to take down Stannis now… take his head and serve justice.

+++++

 _Revenge is sweet_ , the men in the Rainbow Guard used to tell her. Only when she sliced Stannis’ head off his shoulder did she realize how seriously rewarding it was. Renly could finally rest in peace. Wiping the blood off her sword, she headed back to the village. The sky was darkening and as she entered, she spotted Jaime sharing a drink with Rose at a nearby table. Consumed by jealousy, her heart burned at the sight of the two of them in such close proximity. Wanting to avoid any confrontation, she decided to slip away before he could spot her. But this time again, Jaime was too quick for her.

 _Please stay,_ his eyes seemed to tell her as he glanced up at her from his glass. _I want to talk to you._ She wanted to ignore his request, to care a damn about what he wished, to walk away from him for the fourth time today, but her legs seemed to disobey, turning into stone with that one look from him and she stayed put, waiting for him.

She could hear him offer an explanation to his companion. “Rose, could you leave us alone for a while? I have to talk to her.” He went on to add in his gentlest, most seductive voice. “I’ll meet you in a while for supper.” Taking her hand, he kissed it in the most agonizingly lingering manner that left Brienne rolling her eyes in angry disbelief.

_This, from a man who kissed me just last night… I can’t believe he nearly bedded me for the second time, and now here he is, throwing himself at this girl..._

“I’ll be waiting,” Rose simpered, fluttering her eyelashes unnecessarily as she left, gliding gracefully past Brienne up the stairs.

Brienne looked away, wanting to pretend that the disgusting show of courtship that she had just witnessed never happened. Her irritation back in its full intensity after her initial fleeting confusion when he looked into her eyes, she deliberately ignored Jaime, striding off to a table far away from where he sat.

Settling down on the stool nearby, she called for the bartender. “Fetch me a mug of the strongest ale you have,” she demanded, determined not to let whatever happened trouble her.

But Jaime appeared to be equally stubborn. Not one to give up, he followed suit and made himself at home next to her without bothering to seek her consent. “You seem to be in a strange mood,” he remarked, trying to start a conversation.

Before she could reply with a scathing comment, the tender arrived, placing a mug in front of her. “I’m fine,” she grunted, reaching for the glass and drinking deeply. “And I’d appreciate being left alone for a while, Ser Jaime. Instead of wasting your time with me, you could probably go back to _Rose_.”

Jaime looked from her face to the drink in her hand. “Does my being with her bother you, Brienne?”

“None of what you do is any of my business,” she snapped, downing the alcohol. “Now, if you could please--”

“You wandered off without telling Bronn or me.”

Brienne sighed. This confrontation would require more ale. Fortunately for her, the tender was back again.

“More ale for you, m’lady?” Brienne nodded and he poured her another glass. “And what can I get you, m’lord?” he asked Jaime, who refused a drink, signalling to the lad to leave them alone.

“You haven’t answered my question, Brienne.”

“So what if I did? I’m neither answerable to you, nor him.”

Jaime stared at the dried bloodstains on her blade. “You went after Stannis, didn’t you?” he came directly to the point. “Alone. Despite my telling you that I’m here to help you.”

When she prolonged her reply, choosing to finish her drink instead, he pressed further, a frown creasing his forehead. “Why did you go all by yourself?” he asked, his tone bordering on fury. “I’m here for you, wench. You know that Cersei’s assassins are after you. Could you not have sent word for me? I would’ve--”

“I didn’t want to disrupt your _wonderful_ evening,” she said icily.

He took a deep breath, shaking his head in exasperation. “I don’t understand your problem, Brienne.”

She opened her mouth to answer him, when the lad who was serving them arrived at their table once again to refill her mug. Taking another swig, she glanced up at Jaime. “When did I ever say I had a problem? Who you court is none of my concern, Ser Jaime.”

He leaned forward, his arms resting on the table as he stared at her. “Then why did you walk away from me earlier?” he confronted her. “Why have you been looking at her like you’d want nothing better than to wring her pretty neck?”

She didn’t answer, taking one more sip instead, the effect of the ale beginning to show as it loosened her tongue, making her want to tell him things she wouldn’t otherwise have said.

Jaime looked at her mug in disapproval. “I don’t think you should be drinking this much, wench, it’s not really good--”

 _You should pay heed to his advice,_ insisted her inner voice, but she was in a mood to defy logical thinking tonight. Ignoring his suggestion, she went on to attack him. “Pretty, is it? So you think she’s pretty?”

“Ofcourse she is,” he said defensively. “Anyone who isn’t blind can see it.”

“There you are,” she spat, her voice dripping with envy despite trying to control herself. “I thought you were unlike the rest of the men I’ve encountered, that you were… nice,” she faltered, the drink muddling her brain, affecting her ability to form a string of coherent words. “But I was wrong, wasn’t I?” she lamented. “You’re all just the same.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just a fellow warrior to you, a sparring companion and an ugly wench you hated at first, someone who could only be at the most your friend.” Her heart shed silent, invisible tears of despair as she spoke. “Like every other man, all you want is a pretty, dainty lady to warm your bed--”

“I don’t understand you, Brienne,” he cut her, his pitch going up a notch in anger. “You pushed me away when I rode all the way up North for you--” he paused to catch his breath “--you made it clear that you didn’t want me. You couldn’t stand it when I touched you and you rejected my marriage proposal--”

“That’s right,” she cried out, tears threatening to flood her eyes. “I stand by my words, my lord, and I choose to stand by my vow. I don’t want to have anything to do with you except respect your insistence to help me with Sansa’s rescue. _I don’t care a damn about who you fuck or marry_.” Leaving him gaping at her in shock, she rose, kicking her stool out of the way aggressively as she took his leave. When she had gone a few steps, she spun around. “You’re welcome to woo her, Ser Jaime,” she barked, vowing to herself that she wouldn’t let this affect her. “I’m sure she’ll make you a wonderful match. I wish you a prosperous life with her.”

Without sparing him another glance, she dashed off like a woman chased by a wolf, stopping only when she was locked safely in her room. Flinging herself on the bed, she rubbed her eyes, the extreme level of intoxication making her all the more vulnerable to her emotions. _A good night’s sleep is all I need, and things will be fine in the morning,_ she consoled herself, sinking into the bed. She was about to lie down fully clothed and armoured, when there came a knock on the door.

 _Pod,_ she remembered, forgetting in all this chaos that it was time for his arrival. That he was to come by tonight had completely skipped her mind thanks to the unpleasant argument with Jaime. They were supposed to take turns watching Sansa’s candle, and tonight it was his watch first while she slept. With Stannis out of the way and the Bolton stronghold increasing, things in Winterfell could soon worsen. Anything could happen anytime. There was a high possibility that Ramsay Bolton might blame the Starks for Stannis’ attack, and sooner or later take it out on Sansa in some nastily perverted manner. Hence the need to be constantly watchful.

It took her a great deal of effort to get to her feet, and she stumbled towards the entrance, struggling to keep her balance. Yanking the door open to let Pod in, she found Jaime standing there instead of her squire. “What--” she began protesting, but before she could deny him entry, he slipped past her and shut the door.

“Are you okay?” he inquired, his green eyes full of concern. “You’ve had too much to drink. I don’t think you--”

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “What could possibly be wrong with me?” That was far from the truth as the alcohol in her blood was beginning to make her feel dizzy.

“Look at you,” he remarked. “You can barely even stand. I don’t think you’ve ever been this drunk, not even the night we--” he stopped, colouring as she too was transported back to that wonderful night, the lovely experience he had dismissed as a mistake. The more she was reminded of his reaction, the more agitation it caused her.

“-- _fucked?_ ” she prompted, her anger rekindled at the sight of him. “What’s wrong?” she chided, when he blushed deeper at the word. “Ashamed to admit that you spent a night with an ugly wench like me?”

“Now look here, I never--”

She didn’t allow him to speak. “Are you worried that your beautiful new companion might crinkle her nose if she came to know what transpired between us? Is she aware that you kissed me last night? That you nearly bedded me again?”

Jaime shook his head. “This is your ale talking, wench, not your sane head. You need some rest. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” He tried to hold her arm to steady her, but she was in no mood to pay any heed to him.

“I can manage without your help,” she said stubbornly, pushing him away. “Pod seems to have disappeared somewhere. I have to watch over Sansa since he’s not here.” But her body seemed to betray her confidence the moment the words left her lips. She was about to hurry inside when she stumbled, losing her balance. She would’ve crashed heavily to the floor, but Jaime was there for her, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back to her feet and into his arms before any damage was done.

“You are getting some rest,” he whispered, locking his eyes on hers. For a while, neither of them spoke, wordlessly sparring with their eyes while the gap between their lips reduced every second. “And the next time you drink, make sure you don’t overdo it.” She could feel his warm breath on her face as he spoke.

“It’s better you leave, Ser Jaime,” she mumbled, without much conviction. A part of her wanted him to stay here with her, to keep her safe in his arms while she slept. The other half of her wanted to break his teeth.

“I won’t,” he insisted, tightening his grip around her. “Not until you’re in bed.”

Lacking the strength to counter him further, Brienne relented this time, not resisting when he half-carried her to the bed. She didn’t complain when he helped her take off the armour, working his way along with her through the various clasps and buckles until they had dismantled it completely. His hand rested on her shoulder even after he was done, his touch combined with the influence of excessive alcohol evoking a feeling of warmth in her. It was her turn now to gaze deeply into his eyes.

_If only I wasn’t bound by my vow…_

He reached out to assist her with her boots when she placed a hand on his wrist. “I can do that, Ser Jaime,” she stopped him, bending to do it herself.

“Very well,” he breathed, immediately drawing away, but maintaining his perch by her side as he watched her discard her boots.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked, still looking somewhat concerned.

“Nothing, thank you,” she replied bashfully. Her eyes on his, she was aching to tell him how much she pined for him. Alcohol somehow seemed to embolden her, pushing her to act on feelings that she normally would’ve buried.

_Tell him you love him… that you desperately want him…_

She tried to clear her head, to regain her sanity, but to no avail. Leaving her bed, he got up to go.

 _Tell him… tell him before it’s too late,_ her heart implored.

 _Shut up and focus on Sansa,_ whatever remained of the logical side of her brain admonished her, guiding her back to her purpose.

But something else, something deep down within her made her reach out to him. “Ser Jaime!”

He spun around immediately. “Yes, Lady Brienne?” Within the next second he was back by her side, this time sitting much closer to her than before. The gap between them was less than a foot now, too dangerous for comfort.

“Ser Jaime, I…” she whispered, breathing heavily, suddenly finding herself tongue tied despite her severely inebriated state.

“Yes, my lady?” He said it so softly that he was barely audible.

She gulped. “Could I have a glass of water?” she managed, feeling utterly stupid as her momentary burst of courage melted into thin air.

He gaped at her for a second before nodding. “Sure.” He filled a glass from her bedside table and fetched it. “Here.” He handed it to her. She drank thirstily and when she stretched out her hand to put the glass back in its place, he grasped her wrist, taking her by surprise.

“There’s something I have to tell you, wench,” he began, once more taking his place by her side. He drew closer, looking deeply into her eyes again. “Brienne...”

“Yes, Ser Jaime?”

“Brienne, I …”

Her concentration diminishing fast, his voice seemed to fade away and her vision was now blurry, the world spinning around her. Drinking this much was certainly a big mistake. Unable to register a single word he said, she clutched his arm for support to counter the dizziness. When she could take it no more, she let her eyes close and  collapsed into his chest, the pale glow of her candle turning into darkness.

+++++

“Brienne, wake up,” a soft voice spoke in her ear. Her head throbbing, she opened her eyes to meet Jaime’s green ones as he stood over her. “It’s time to go,” he whispered. “Sansa needs help.”

Disorientated for a moment, she looked around to recollect what had happened to her. It was still dark and her head was throbbing severely. How long had she been asleep? It took her a few seconds to remember the reason for her sickly state. Disgust at her irresponsible drinking was soon replaced by a wave of panic when she vaguely remembered Jaime’s arrival last night. What happened between them last night? No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recollect most of it.

She only remembered taking her anger out on him, jealousy and alcohol hindering her ability to think clearly. What happened after that, however, had completely flown out of her mind. Despite searching her memory, she failed to recollect what she had said to him, only remembering that it wasn’t pleasant. Overcome with shame, she suddenly felt the need to explain herself, to ask him to forgive her for her rude behaviour.

“Ser Jaime…” she said slowly.

“We can talk later, wench. Get dressed. We have to leave immediately.”

She got up to fetch herself a glass of water to calm her raging headache, when she glanced out of the window. That was when she spotted it-a faint glow in the distance. _Sansa_.

+++++

Sansa was alive and safe, and she had accepted Brienne’s services this time. All was well. For now.

“I cannot thank you enough, my lady,” Sansa gushed, wringing her hand in gratitude. “Had it not been for your timely arrival…” she trailed off, her eyes full of tears.

“You’re safe now, my lady,” Brienne comforted her. “So is your companion.” She turned to Theon, wondering if she could trust the boy. No doubt, he played a vital part in the girl’s escape; had it not been for him, she couldn’t have fled from the castle, but what he had done to the Stark boys was fresh in her mind.

When Sansa wanted to bid Theon goodbye, Brienne turned away, only to spot Jaime at a distance.

“Ser Jaime,” she called out, heading towards him. “I’d like to thank you--” ashamed of her behaviour last night, she couldn’t quite meet his eyes “--for your timely intervention. Had it not been for you, Sansa might have been devoured by Ramsay’s hounds.”

“I told you, I came here to assist you,” he said. “And that’s what I did. You’re the one responsible for the girl’s well-being. _You_ saved her, Brienne. You’ve fulfilled your vow.”

She looked up at him. There was pride in those green eyes, for her and for what she had accomplished.

“What now?” he asked. “What do you plan to do?”

“For the first time in my life I’ve achieved my purpose,” she confessed, her heart soaring. She had avenged Renly and successfully rescued the girl. What more could she want? “I’ve pledged myself to Lady Sansa, and that’s what I’m going to do next… dedicate my sword and my services to her.”

“I wish you well then, my lady,” Jaime said softly, his eyes shining. “May you always get whatever you desire.”

“What about you, Ser Jaime?”

“I plan to accompany you to Castle Black,” he declared. “For I’ve sworn to myself to see you safely to your destination. Once I’ve done that, I will leave for Casterly Rock.”

 _And marry Rose… thereby fulfilling your destiny as heir to your house,_ she concluded, her heart heavy at the thought. It was then that the memory of last night came back in bits. She remembered that he was about to say something before she passed out.

“Ser Jaime,” she began tentatively. “You were about to tell me something before I collapsed--”

“I just wanted to wish you well for your mission.” He smiled affectionately.

Ashamed at her outburst, she finally apologized. “I'm sorry for everything I said last night. It was highly unbecoming of me. I don’t usually lose my composure--”

“All that’s long forgotten, my lady,” he assured her. “I hold no grudge against you--”

They were interrupted by the sound of hooves. It was Bronn. “It’s time to leave,” he urged. “Before Bolton sends out his next lot of hounds, we must make ourselves scarce.”

And so they set off, Bronn and Jaime riding together, ahead of Sansa and Brienne. Brienne couldn’t help taking note that Jaime avoided her since they left, keeping mostly to Bronn while leaving her in Sansa’s company.

Sansa broke the silence after a while. “Can I ask you something, Lady Brienne?”

“Ofcourse.”

“Why is Ser Jaime here?”

Brienne licked her lips, wondering how best to answer her. She had anticipated this question sooner or later. “He’s here because he feels the need to keep me safe from Cersei’s men.” She went on to explain everything that had transpired in King’s Landing after Sansa’s escape.

Sansa gave her a sharp look. “We both know that you’re well capable of taking care of yourself,” she said. “And so does Ser Jaime. He’s not here for that. Nor is he here because he feels honour bound to make you his wife.”

Brienne flushed, unable to answer her.

“When are you going to accept that you’re in love with him, my lady?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Brienne objected, flustered. “He is not in love with me.” For a fleeting moment, she had thought that he would’ve confessed his love for her last night had she not fainted in his arms. But she was sadly mistaken.

“Are you so naive as to think he doesn’t love you?” Sansa was surprised with her assumption. “He’s been in love with you ever since you set foot in King’s Landing, my lady… maybe even before that.”

Sansa, Bronn, Tyrion... they were all mistaken. Besides, all that mattered was her promise. “I just swore a vow to you, Lady Sansa--”

“Consider that fulfilled the moment we ride into Castle Black--” Sansa interrupted impatiently “--once I’m safely back with Jon. You’re a high-born lady, the heir to your house. Don’t you want to fulfill that responsibility? Don’t you wish to do your heart’s bidding, my lady?” She glanced at Jaime. “He loves you, Lady Brienne, and you love him too. When we reach Castle Black, make it known to him… tell him how you feel before it’s too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who are still following this, thank you for your patience and apologies for my irregular update schedule.  
> I admit, this chapter was super-angsty, but we're at the end, and all will be well soon. There's just one last, shorter chapter to go after this.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here it is... the end!

“Your suggestion didn’t work, Bronn,” Jaime complained to his companion, his tone hollow and his heart empty. “I’ve failed in love… again.”

“There’s still time,” Bronn tried to cheer him up as they rode side by side.

Soon they’d reach Castle Black, and once Sansa was handed over safely to her brother, Brienne’s priorities were absolutely clear. She was sworn to Catelyn Stark, and now her services would be inherited by her daughter. There was no place for men or love or marriage in her life. “For what?” Jaime lashed out, unable to hide his heartbreak and desperation. “For her to once again reject my affections and tell me to get out of her life?”

“All I can say is that she’s got her priorities fooked up, and you lack the courage to tell her what’s on your mind,” Bronn pronounced his judgement. “You do need to have a good talk, the two of you.”

“I’m doing no more talking.” Jaime had already made up his mind to leave for Casterly Rock after ensuring Brienne had safely made it to her destination. There was nothing left in King’s Landing for him but for his son Tommen, and there was no way he could go back to Cersei again. That phase of his life was over. The best he could do now was to rule his family home in his father’s stead, with or without a wife, though with Brienne by his side, it would’ve been a far sweeter prospect to look forward to.

The rest of the journey was covered in silence with the ladies keeping a consistent distance behind them. A few miles and a few hours later, they rode through the gates of Castle Black, and while Sansa enjoyed a tearful, but fulfilling reunion with her brother, Jaime couldn’t help noticing a bearded, red-haired man staring at his wench. There was nothing decent about the look in his eyes, it was as creepy as hell, indicating lust and a strong desire to fuck her. His blood boiled, but he could do nothing about it, for Brienne wasn’t his to safeguard from predators such as these. She could, and would take care of herself.

“Ser Jaime!” So absorbed he was in glaring at Brienne’s strange new admirer, that he didn’t notice Jon Snow approaching him. “To what pleasure do I owe the company of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard? I wasn't aware that you were taking the black.” At once, Jaime’s mind went back to the conversation he had with the boy years ago. Was the lad trying to avenge the sarcasm Jaime had so cruelly unleashed upon him then?

“Ser Jaime is with me.” Brienne stepped ahead, jumping to his defence. “I’m Brienne of Tarth, sworn to Lady Catelyn and now to Lady Sansa. I made a promise to her mother to bring her back safely to her family. Ser Jaime is a friend.” A shadow clouded her face for a second when she mentioned the word _friend,_ and she paused for a while. “He gave me his word that he would help us get here, that he’d protect us from his sister’s assassins. He’s here for me--” she corrected herself immediately “--for us.”

“Lady Brienne’s right,” Sansa supported her claim. “Ser Jaime and Lord Tyrion have always been kind to me when I was in King’s Landing. He bears no ill intent.”

Jon fixed his soulful eyes on him, studying him carefully. “In that case, I owe you my gratitude, ser,” he changed his stand, giving Jaime a smile. “Anyone who’s shown my sister kindness in her dark days is welcome here. Consider this your home for as long as you’d like, though I’m surprised you're here, given the current misfortune your family had to suffer.” He voice was sympathetic when he said this.

Completely unaware of what he was talking about, Jaime merely stared at him.

Jon looked surprised at his ignorance. “Your face tells me that you’re unaware of what has happened. It is with great regret that I have to inform you that your niece no longer lives. She was murdered by Ellaria Sand.”

Jaime’s blood ran cold. _Myrcella… my baby girl!_ He had not even had the privilege to tell her that she was his child. Such was his unfortunate fate.

“I’m sorry, Ser Jaime,” Jon’s tone exuded sincerity. “My condolences are with you.”

“I need to be alone for a while,” was the only response he could manage.

Jon nodded. “Show Ser Jaime to one of the guest chambers,” he instructed a brother who stood nearby.

Jaime followed the man, his legs no longer under his control. Brienne had turned him down, he had become a traitor to the crown having abandoned his sister and now his daughter was dead. Such was the turn his life had taken in just a matter of months.

+++++

“What’re you going to do now?” After hours of solitude, Bronn had come to meet him.

“I don’t know,” Jaime admitted, feeling truly lost. “I want to go back for my son, for Tommen is the only surviving child I have left, but--”

“You can’t return to your sister!” Bronn exclaimed. “I’m not telling you to stop mourning your daughter or stop caring for your son, but you can’t drown in the same hellhole you got out of after years of doing her bidding.”

“I know,” Jaime agreed. “But what do I do then?”

“Talk to Lady Brienne,” Bronn insisted as usual. “Take her with you to Casterly Rock and start afresh. For fook’s sake, have a life of your own rather than living someone else’s all the time. I’m sure you can keep an eye on your son from there.”

That would be nothing but a futile attempt. “Brienne won’t--”

“Talk,” Bronn advised him again, without allowing him to finish. “Unless you do, you’ll never know how she feels now.”

“Her stand remains unchanged,” Jaime replied sadly. “She’s sworn herself to Sansa, and the Starks are who she’ll live the rest of her life for.”

“Regardless, it doesn’t hurt to tell her how you feel.” Bronn got up to leave. “Do it,” he urged. “Tonight, before it’s too late.”

Once Bronn had gone, Jaime was once again left alone with his melancholy. Night had fallen, and it was time for supper, but he neither had the hunger nor the desire to eat. Once or twice the thought to seek out the wench and speak to her crossed his mind, but given her stubborn nature and how much she valued the commitment of a vow, he knew she’d never pay heed to her heart even though she loved him, choosing duty over love without batting an eyelid.

A knock on the door, followed by a familiar voice shook him out of his unpleasant thoughts. “Ser Jaime--” she hesitated before going on “--can I come in?”

“The door’s open.” Apprehensive, though he was, for inviting her in at this hour might open up a new set of problems, he didn’t have the heart to turn her away. After hours of loneliness and disturbing thoughts, he could do with some company, and who better than the wench to sit with in bleak moments such as these.

Brienne closed the door behind her and ambled towards him. Her armour was off and she wore a simple pair of trousers and a shirt, one which left the scar on her neck partially visible through the gap. Perching on the bed next to him, she began fidgeting with her nails as she spoke. “Ser Jaime, I’ve come to offer my condolences.” When she looked at him, her eyes were full of sympathy and concern. “I’m so sorry for your loss. No one deserves to lose a child… and two within such a short duration is downright cruel.”

He nodded, acknowledging her and indicating his gratitude.

“You weren’t at supper,” she went on, without waiting for him to speak. “I thought I might find you here. I came to fetch you--”

“I’m not hungry,” he said brusquely. Food was the last thing on his mind now.

“Then I’m not eating, either,” she declared, as obstinate as ever, her tone firm and determined.

“By all means you should,” he insisted. “Don’t starve yourself on my account, I’m not worthy of this much care and concern.”

“You are--”

“--nothing but a failure,” he cried out, hours of bottled up anguish and frustration gushing out the moment he saw her. “I failed as a brother, a son, a father and worst of all I failed in love--” he took a deep breath, composing himself on time.

Brienne shifted closer. “You could’ve done nothing for her, Ser Jaime,” she consoled him, her voice soothingly enticing. “By no means should you consider yourself a failure for something that’s beyond your control.”

He shook his head. “I feel miserable,” he croaked, for yet another time in his life letting down his guard in the presence of the only person who understood him and knew him for who he truly was. “I don’t know what to do, Brienne.”

She said nothing, but reached out for his hand, her eyes never leaving his, the look in them loaded with emotions-some he could discern, while others he couldn’t. Her touch ignited something inside him, and before he could contain himself, he pulled her into an embrace. For a second, she was stiff with surprise and shock at his sudden move, but she soon melted into him, throwing her arms around his neck and drawing him closer.  

“Wench,” he breathed into her neck, his grief slowly turning into something else, a strong ache, an unbearable desire and a compelling need to be with her. He wanted her… tonight and for the rest of his life. Bronn was right, and so was Tyrion. How could he have imagined life without her? He wanted to marry her, to make her his. He wanted her to be the mother of his children… Hells, he could even picture his unborn children in her arms!

“Jaime!” Her voice was unnaturally thick, and her breathing became heavier when he kissed her neck. He could feel her grab his shirt, tightening her grip on him. No words were necessary to tell him that she wanted him as much as he ached for her. His hand slid to the laces of her shirt, undoing them with a newfound sense of urgency while his lips traced a path up her neck.

“I want you, Brienne,” he said hoarsely, giving her earlobe a light nip, causing her to moan helplessly. “I need you. Stay with me tonight.” Struggling with one hand, he somehow managed to unlace her shirt after several seconds of effort and a torturous test of his patience. Pushing the hindering piece of clothing off her shoulder, he slid his hand down her chest.

“ _Gods, Jaime!_ ” she gasped, when he caressed her breast.

She reached for his shirt, fumbling with it and trying to get him off it as fast as she could, and before he knew it, the garment lay by his side, forgotten. He shoved her on the bed, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into an embrace. His hand roamed all over her body, playing with her breasts, subjecting them to endless agony. His mouth found hers and he kissed her, her honey-sweet lips filling him with warmth and hope, the cold, dark feeling that had occupied his heart all day instantly replaced by a fire of passion. This was life - her lips on his, her body under his, her hand in his and her presence by his side. She was his, she was his life. She kissed him back with the same want and desire she had shown for him that night when they had--

He froze when the memory of that night came back to knock sense into him. _What the fuck am I doing?_

He got off her immediately. “I’m sorry, my lady,” he murmured, moving aside to let her get up. “I shouldn’t have… we shouldn’t have...” Ashamed of what he would’ve done had it not been for the prevalence of his logic and sanity, he was hesitant at first to look her in the eye. But he still did, and what he found there was hurt and shock and disbelief that he could do this to her. “This, Brienne, is another vulnerable moment you have found me in,” he went on to explain, speaking rapidly to hide his embarrassment. “I can’t bring myself to repeat what we did that night, I can’t take advantage of a weak moment for the second time. I was heartbroken with my daughter’s death and depressed and you just happened to come in at the right moment to comfort me. Come dawn, I’m leaving for Casterly Rock and I thought--”

“You’re leaving?” She sat up, looking downcast, and pulled her shirt back on. He would’ve given his other hand to know what was on her mind. Was it disappointment that he saw in her eyes? Was she sad that she would never see him again?

“Yes.”

The blue eyes were full of anger and hurt. “It’s _her_ , isn’t it?”

Her question left Jaime blinking stupidly for a second. “Who?”

“Rose,” she answered, her face flushed with envy. “You gave her your word, didn’t you? You want to go back to your ancestral home and marry her, to make her your lady and father her children. That’s why you were guilt-ridden the moment you touched me. No wonder you pushed yourself away when you realized it was me whose arms you sought comfort in, and not the pretty girl you’ve been wooing all these days--”

“Wait,” he stopped her. “What the hell are you going on about, wench?”

“Don’t try to pretend there was nothing between the two of you!” she snapped. “I’ve been watching you and--”

Her drunken evening apart, Jaime had never imagined she’d take their little game so seriously, still thinking about it days after he had left that girl behind. A part of him, though, was glad that she was jealous to see him with another woman. “That girl means nothing to me. It was just a stupid plan to get you all hot and worked-up,” he admitted, slightly guilty that his lie had caused her so much anguish.

She was quiet for a while. “Why?” she asked, a hint of doubt lingering in her eyes.

“It was a stupid idea,” he said apologetically, mentally cursing Bronn for causing a misunderstanding to this extent. “Bronn had this weird notion that jealousy might draw you to me.”

“Looks like he was right after all,” she whispered, not quite looking at him as she spoke. “I did get drunk and desperate when I saw her with you. But if Rose was never a part of your life, then why--”

“--did I turn you down some time back?” He had anticipated the question. “After you had told me categorically that Sansa was the sole purpose of your existence, how could I stand in your way?”

“I thought you pushed me away because you felt the same as you did that night, that this was another big mistake after the first drunken blunder," she finally spoke her mind. "Given my assumption that you were in love with that girl, what good would come in indulging in another impulsive night of passion with me?”

“That was no blunder, wench.” He had to tell her even if they didn’t belong together. She had the right to know. “That was the most beautiful night of my life. And to repeat myself, I _don’t_ love Rose.”

All she did was look at him, her eyes shining with a hundred unspoken emotions.

He had to do everything to make her believe him. “Everything I said that morning--” he shook his head, wondering how to put his feelings into words “--I was an idiot. Finding you naked in my arms had clouded my thinking, my ability to talk sense. I had panicked in anticipation of the consequences and all I could manage was the insensitive rubbish I told you. That was partly because I also thought that you might think badly of me for so crudely robbing you of your maidenhood.”

“You mean, you didn’t regret it?” Her voice was barely audible, almost a whisper. _Still the questioning tone, still the hint of doubt..._

“Not even once! That night was the best thing that ever happened to me. _You_ are the best thing that ever happened to me, my lady.” Now that he had begun, words flowed seamlessly. “I wanted to marry you before you left King’s Landing, Brienne, but unfortunately Cersei was smarter. She made a pact with me-your life for my loyalty to her. Never seeing you again was a price I had to pay for keeping you safe from her.”

“Then why did you come after me to Winterfell?”

“Cersei revealed her true colours soon after my father’s death,” he said bitterly. “I was cruelly awakened from my blind belief in her when she went back on her word to me. She wanted to get rid of you from the beginning, only I was a fool not to have seen it coming. Her false promise was only a means to keep me tied to her, to play around with me and my feelings as and when she wished.”

Brienne coloured, avoiding his eyes. “My apologies, Ser Jaime, you had to suffer such trouble on my account--”

“Oh, fuck apologies!” he swore, miffed that she still failed to get his point. “I _love_ you, Brienne,” he finally spoke out the words that had been at the tip of his tongue all these days. “I didn’t chase you because I was obliged to you, or out of chivalry, nor did I express my wish to marry you because I had deflowered you. I have loved you for ages, and I still do,” he confessed, despite knowing his words would make no difference to her decision. “But I expect nothing in return,” he quickly added. “I know how important your vow is to you, and I’d never ask you to forsake it in favour of a life with me. That’s why I turned you down tonight, not because I desire you any less or wish for someone else in my life.”

She blushed deeper, the tenderness in her eyes filling him with hope when she looked at him this time. “I really thought you had fallen for that pretty girl. She’s beautiful, a proper lady and she could offer you a life--”

“A life with _you_ is all I want, wench,” he made himself clear. “If I cared for beauty, I wouldn’t be here, mesmerised by your pretty eyes, craving for your touch and longing to hear your sweet voice every single minute of my life. It was _you_ I gifted my sword to, not her, and it was _you_ I had an armour made for--”

Her eyes went round with surprise. “ _You_ had that armour made for me?”

“Ofcourse,” Jaime admitted, smiling. “Do you really think Tyrion would’ve got your measurements right?”

That earned him a shy, girlish giggle, a sound that was melody to his ears. “You did get it right. It’s perfect.”

“How could I not, my lady?” he murmured. “I remember every inch of your body. It’s etched deep in my memory.”

Her shy smile in response was to die for, but his happiness was short lived, as he had to bid her goodbye. “It is with a heavy heart that I’ll be leaving you tomorrow, my lady.” He placed his hand on hers. “I wish you success in everything in life, and all I want is for you to be happy. I hope you fulfil your vow and make the most of your life.”

Her smile faded, the soft shy look in her eyes giving way to dejection. “So you’re just going to leave me here, never to see me again?”

“I don’t belong here, my lady,” he told her, his heart weighing a ton. “It was only for _you_ that I came here, and now that I have no place in your life, it’s only appropriate that I leave.”

He could see tears fill those lovely blue pools. “What if I asked you to stay?”

“What do you mean?” He didn’t know whether he could allow himself to be happy just as yet for fear of having his hopes shattered if this were another misunderstanding.

“What if I told you that I’ve been stubborn all along, placing duty above my heart? What if--” she broke down, tears streaming down her cheeks.

His heart went out to her and he was unable to take it anymore. Wiping away her tears, he gently caressed her cheek. “Please stop crying, wench, you know it breaks me to see you like this--”

“What if I told you that I love you?” She smiled through her tears. “You’re all I want, Jaime, a life with you, in your arms, by your side.”

Overjoyed and overwhelmed, Jaime’s heart soared when he heard this, but there still was one small problem. “My lady, what about your vow? I don’t want you to go back on it on my account.”

“Lady Sansa has released me from it, for she wishes me to heed my heart,” she informed him shyly. “My duty was to return her to her family, and I’ve achieved that. My allegiance to her might continue, but that doesn’t stop me from living my life.”

“Marriage to me will never stop you doing what you feel is right,” he assured her. “If it is Sansa you’re going to be loyal to, I won’t come in your way--”

“But you’re a Lannister,” she voiced her concern. “Your loyalties--”

“--aren’t with my sister anymore,” he asserted. “I’m going to Casterly Rock, to fulfil my responsibility towards my father as his son and heir. I’d be honoured to have you by my side as my lady wife. And if supporting the North makes you happy, I won’t stand in your way.”

A lovely smile graced her lips. “Casterly Rock sounds nice.”

“So does Tarth,” he added, shifting closer to her. “My lady, you have a duty towards your father too. As the heir to your house, you’d be expected to succeed him some day and produce your own heirs.”

She sighed. “That’s something I’ve been running away from for far too long. Father would be happy now, I suppose, given that I’ve found myself such a handsome and honourable husband.”

He grinned, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. “Handsome, I sure am, but honourable--”

“There’s more honour in you than the most honourable men I’ve met,” she mouthed into his lips.

“Does this mean, you’ll marry me, wench?’ he asked, showering her face with little kisses while his hand was busy taking her shirt off.

“Are you still in doubt, Ser Jaime?” She ran her fingers over his bare chest and traced a path down the trail of hair on it, setting his groin on fire.

“No,” he said hoarsely, biting her lip a little too hard when her hand brushed against his hardness. “Just thought, I’d confirm for good measure.”

She lay down on the bed and pulled him on top of her. When she kissed him hungrily, her aggression took him by surprise. “I want you, Jaime,” she gasped, when they broke apart for air. “I want to be yours.”

“Believe me, wench, there’s nothing I’ve ever yearned for more than this,” he growled. “But this time, I’d rather take it slowly and show you what it feels like to be a woman. I want this to be a night to remember, an unforgettable first time that I had always mentally pictured, and not the quick drunken fuck our first time together actually turned out to be.”

“Do what you will, ser, though our first time was quite memorable for me,” she admitted, her hands putting him through the sweetest, most agonizing moments he had ever experienced.

“So it was for me too, but tonight’s going to be better, my lady.” Having said that, he spoke no further, sliding his fingers between her thighs. Even through her clothes he could make out how wet she was. While he was busy getting her trousers off, her hands fumbled with his breeches, eager to get rid of them.

Within no time, the reminder of their clothes lay discarded and he began to torture her, slowly and sensually, touching and kissing her like he had never done before. He was so painfully hard that he feared he might come apart, but that could wait for the time being. “I love you, Brienne,” he told her again, kissing his way along her body, taking his time to taste every bit of her skin, taking pleasure in her gasps and moans as he alternated between being softly delicate and wildly aggressive.

“Stop tormenting me and get it over with, Jaime,” she cried out, her fingers desperately sliding through his hair.

“We’re not here to _get it over with_ , woman.” He began fondling her breasts, one at a time, for he knew being touched like that brought her immense pleasure. “If you think you’re going to get any sleep tonight, you’re mistaken.” His fingers and his mouth wreaked havoc on her breasts, squeezing, nibbling, and caressing them, leaving her whimpering and gasping and sighing as she begged and pleaded with him to grant her the release she so desperately needed. Determined to take her all the way through this sweet suffering, he paid her no heed, flicking his tongue over one taut nipple, while tugging the other with his fingers until she could take it no more. She arched into him, frantically grabbing a fistful of the bedspread with one hand while her other hand roamed down his back, coming to rest on his ass.

“Jaime, do it, please!” she begged, giving his ass a tight squeeze, her nails digging into him, making him harder than he already was.

His erection painfully pushing into her thighs, he could take it no more and decided to bring this game of lust to a conclusion. While she was no more a virgin, he still took care, ensuring he was extremely gentle when he made his first move. He began with mild thrusts at first, gradually stepping up his pace, progressing from slow and gentle to wild and passionate and ultimately to desperately aggressive. She matched his rhythm, and it didn’t take him much time to bring her to the edge. She found her release soon, the peak of her bliss punctuated with a loud scream and his name on her lips. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, her body glistening with sweat and reeling under the aftermath of what he had just subjected her to.

Remembering their last time and not wanting to take the same risk again, he was about to pull out of her before he could finish, but she stopped him. “No,” she said firmly. “I want you to go all the way.”

“Are you sure? You could--”

“I know.” She looked determined. “But we’re going to be married soon. I want you in the most natural way possible, Jaime, and what could be more beautiful than this?”

He needed no further coaxing. Plunging into her again, he shuddered violently, rocking her body with his, taking her with him as he reached new levels of ecstasy. When he filled her with his seed, everything he had ever experienced before paled in comparison with this, for nothing was more rewarding than being with someone who loved him unconditionally, wanting nothing but him in return for her love.

With a huge sigh of satisfaction, he collapsed into her arms. “I love you, Brienne,” he said, panting, as he kissed her softly.

“I love you too,” she replied, glowing after what he had just put her through. “Are you really leaving at dawn?”

“No.” He pushed a strand of sweaty hair off her forehead. “Not immediately. When I do leave, I’m taking you with me, for this is no place for a woman. I can’t leave you alone in the company of that wildling who was lusting after you.”

“So you’re jealous now, hmm?” It was her turn to tease him.

“The way he looked at you, I would’ve gouged his eyes out,” he said angrily, recollecting the fellow’s leer.

“First Oberyn Martell and now this fellow... you look absolutely adorable when you’re all jealous and possessive.” She smiled, kissing his forehead. “On a serious note, Sansa wants me to help her brother retake Winterfell. If you want to leave, I’m coming with you. I can tell her that I can’t--”

“I told you I won’t stand in the way of your decisions,” he interrupted, kissing her cheek. “Go ahead and help her. I’ll always be with you, no matter what. And when we get to Winterfell, I want to wed you at the Godswood--”

“--and then some day, we can sail to Tarth to meet my father,” she went on dreamily.

“We will,” Jaime gave her his word, wanting nothing more than to make all her dreams come true.

+++++

_Days later, at the Godswood at Winterfell…_

They stood in front of the sacred tree, soon to begin a new life together as man and wife. In the absence of Tywin Lannister, Ser Davos was entrusted with the responsibility of officiating the wedding.

“Who comes before the old gods this night?” Ser Davos asked Jon, who would be giving away the bride in Selwyn Tarth’s absence.

“Brienne, of House Tarth comes here to be wed. Who comes to claim her?”

Jaime stepped forward, smiling at his bride. “Jaime, of House Lannister,” he said, wishing this weren’t a dream and he wouldn’t wake up beside Cersei instead of his lovely wife-to-be. “Who gives her away?”

The ritual came to a close with Jon giving her away and Brienne accepting him as her husband. _Her husband,_ he thought, the feeling yet to sink in. _She’s my wife. I am hers and she is mine, from this day until the end of my days…_

When the ceremony was over and the crowd had dispersed, he finally had some time alone with his new wife. “When we first met, you never thought you’d be marrying me, did you?” he teased as they walked hand in hand towards the castle.

“I never thought you’d fall in love with me,” she mused. “I always found it hard to believe, that a man like you and a woman like me--”

“--are a perfect match, wench,” he finished, linking his fingers with hers.

“We’re far from perfect. I’ve always been worried that your affections might stray to another, more beautiful woman, particularly when you met that girl Rose--”

He threw her a sly wink. “Still jealous of her, my lady?”

“I’m never going to forgive Bronn for coming up with such a ridiculous suggestion.” She scowled. “A beautiful girl that she was, what would’ve happened had you really fallen for her… or someone else, for that matter?”

Jaime came to an abrupt halt. “I want you to remember one thing, wench, that there can be no one else, _ever_ ,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes. “It’s _you_.” He kissed her, wanting to get rid of all her doubts. “It will always be _you_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now that I'm finally done with this, I hope you liked it. Thank you all for reading and commenting, staying with me through this journey. A special shoutout to everyone who has been regularly commenting, your words have been a constant source of encouragement. Thanks a ton!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please do share your comments and tell me if you liked it :)


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